The Game with no Rules
by Roxu
Summary: It was a game. To him and to me. But any game has loopholes, and any game can be challenging. My name is Marcel Quinn, I used to be an engineer prodigy before my incident. Now I'm a Delinquent, and I just so happen to be stuck with the person who hates my very soul and I find by chance that I love fueling that hate. Bellamy Blake, jackass extraordinaire. Go figure. Bellamy/OC
1. Pilot

**_Summary:_**_It was a game. To him and to me. But any game have loopholes, and any game can be challenging. My name is Marcel Quinn, I used to be an engineer prodigy before my incident. Now I'm a Delinquent, and I just so happen to be stuck with the person who hated my very soul. Bellamy Blake. Go figure. Bellamy/OC_

_"__We allow our ignorance to prevail upon us and make us think we can survive alone, alone in patches, alone in groups, alone in races, and even alone in genders."_

- _Mara Angelou_

**The Game with no Rules – **_Pilot_

The world blurred around me, and it was hazily suffocating. My head tipping backward, clenching my jaw in hopes of my head settling from the swirling the tranquilizer drug those bastard guards had shot me with. They had expected me to go quietly while they fucking snapped a band around my wrist, were they morons or just sadistic assholes?

Cracking an eye open, I grimaced at the florescent light above my head, shining directly in my eyes. I was strapped into a seat, red seatbelts anchoring me tightly. "What the hell?" I groaned, hearing the chattering of other people around my age – which was unusually weird, considering just a second ago I was locked into my cell with the gray walls my only company.

"And she awakens," a voice spoke, adjacent from me and with a snide tone. I lolled my head to the right, taking in the form of a tall, arrogant face that shone with everything except bashfulness and sincerity. His hair was slicked back, brown eyes and freckled face formed handsomely. I was not stupid, and I knew exactly who this person was. "Marcel. It sucks to hell to see you here," Bellamy Blake sneered.

"I could say the same for you, Blake. But frankly, I did miss your charming personality." My eye roll did not go unnoticed in the dim lighting of the shuttle we were in. "Where are we?"

"Falling to earth." He neither sounded excited nor sad. Neutral. "I came for Octavia." He said it as if it was the main objective known to mankind, his face setting in determination to protect his younger sibling. I'd never seen her, but I'd always known of the importance that Octavia held in his heart, of what heart he had, anyways.

"I'm guessing you wearing a guard's uniform has something to do with that?"

Bellamy sent me a pompous smirk. "You could say that." He leaned forward slightly, his hand catching my wrist just as I went to brush an ebony tress away from my face. His grip was tight, and with a little more pressure it would have become painful. "I know you, Marcy. Don't get in my way, and we won't have a problem."

Anger rushed through me like a tidal wave. I ripped away my arm, my face inches from his as my dark green eyes challenged his own almond brown with an igniting glare. I got flashbacks of us laughing, shoving each other around playfully – but then it morphed darkly, his face revealing me a traitor for Ace's death. I bared my teeth. "And I you, Bellamy. _You_ – stay out of _my_ way."

He looked down at me with hate and hostility. "That's not how the game is played, Marcy. There are no rules now."

"But I set the pieces, Blake." I shifted in my seat. "You forget that you can't do anything without me. I was and am the mechanic. Who are _you_?"

Right before he could respond, the shuttle quaked and shook us dangerously, wrenching my head back painfully against my seat. I grunted, realizing that we had just hit the atmosphere belt, which generally meant we were coming very close to planet earth. I abruptly felt like a wider purpose here, that the counsel had put me on this for a reason. To assist the others.

A TV in the corner, angled so I could just barely visualize it, crackled with static before Chancellor Jaha made his appearance known on the screen. I did not dislike the man, despite the many people he had floated, he was a fair leader albeit I knew I should hold malicious intentions against him for placing me as a Delinquent.

"_Prisoners of the Ark, here me now. You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us_." He continued, "_Indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds for survival were better, we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable_."

Bellamy chuckled as someone cried out, "You're dad's a dick, Wells," to the Chancellors son that was far in front of us. I scoffed at the comment, but still smiled as other people giggled and laughed. It was only half-true.

"_The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain to be stocked with enough nonperishables to sustain three hundred people – for up to two years_."

"Space bandit strikes again!"

Random people began cheering obnoxiously, causing my attention to waver from the television screen to the boy recklessly floating around. I knew who he was, having heard rumors of the boy who wasted a month supply of oxygen. I realized why he done it, as well, because who didn't want to walk outside in space? I'd done it, although not illegally, and it was an adrenaline rush to be reckoned with – rivaling anything else ever daring.

"These people are idiots," I said evenly, watching as two other loons hastily unsnapped their seatbelts, and a girl demanding they don't for the sake of their safety. "The parachutes will deploy any second."

"Scared, are we, Marcy?" Bellamy turned on me with a vicious grin. "I remember once a time that you would have been the first one to rip off just about anything for a little fun." His suggestions were perverse and disgusting.

I smiled back, but it wasn't a nice smile. "And I remember a time when you weren't an asshole. Hey, but times change, right?" Just as the smile wiped from his face, as well as my own, the shuttle jerked wildly to the left. The three boys that had been floating around went flying in different directions, one of them narrowly missing me and instead crashing against the metal wall behind me.

Sparks and screams filled the air, the terror of crashing and the fear of dying surrounding me in a crescendo of cries. Bellamy had white knuckles as he gripped his seatbelts, and I was certainly none the better.

When everything fell silent and we were all washed in a blanket of darkness, I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Heights were surely not my fear, but falling was one. After seeing Ace fall, he was – it was terrible. I hope he never hit the atmosphere belt, because if he did, he would have never hit the earth without being specks of ashes – and that would have been the worst possible scenario for a death.

"Listen," someone announced, "no machine hum."

His friend beside him, who were both strapped to the wall, let out a breathy whoa of awe. "That's a first," he said in pure amazement.

I reached down and began undoing my seatbelt, desiring to stand up on my own two feet. Bellamy had already unstrapped himself and was brushing his uniform off, standing up poised like a leader ready to fall headfirst into battle. I pursed my lips and observed him as he retreated, more than happy to watch him leave. Believe it or now, he was never such a jerk before he'd been charged as a Delinquent and titled a smug jackass.

Everyone's faced appeared eager to see the earth, and having been directly beside the spot that directed you to the lower level of the shuttle, the outer door was almost directly under me. I jumped through the meager space, just as desiring to see the earth for what it was. I'd heard stories and even seen pictures, but nothing could relate as to seeing it with my own two eyes.

I wasn't surprised at all to see Bellamy already instructing people to step back from the outer door, his voice filled with command and 'higher-above'. "Hey, just back it up guys," he told them, waving a hand. I stepped around people, standing to his far left with crossed arms.

"Stop!" A girl abruptly burst through the crowd, and I raised my eyebrows. She was pretty, and I recognized the doctor's daughter from anywhere. Blond hair, blue eyes, she looked like her father – who I used to work alongside with, with my brother. "The air could be toxic," she explained rapidly, concern washing over her expression. Just like her father to worry about everyone else as well.

"If the air's toxic we're all dead anyway," Bellamy shrugged nonchalantly. Well, he had the whole 'optimistic' badass theme going on, ten point to Blake for that.

I snorted and he glared at me. "First breaths yours," I said. "Just so we can prepare ourselves to die and all." Several people around me chuckled at what I had said, causing his narrowed eyes to burn into me even more. The girl revolved her gaze to me fleetingly, and her eyes widened with recognition.

Just as Clarke propped open her mouth to speak my name, a new startled voice filled the air: "Bellamy?" I flicked my gaze over to a girl climbing down the ladder. Oh God, she looked just like Blake that it was almost sickening to see.

For the first time, pride and happiness flashed in his face. As she strolled towards him, uncertain, he spoke. "God, look how big you are." They embraced tightly, her arms coiled around his neck.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Octavia studied him, perplexed. "A guard's uniform?"

"I borrowed it, to get on the drop ship." He smiled, eyes warm. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you." She returned his beam, hugging him once more.

Clarke blinked her gaze away, which had been on me albeit I had not noticed, and dropped her eyes to Octavia's wrist. "Where's your wristband?" The blond questioned, curious.

The feisty brunette whirled on her, "Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a _year_."

"A year too short," I murmured underneath my breath, leaning against the wall. I was rapidly growing impatient with the reuniting siblings. She had heard my comment, and her eyes flared, but I quickly cut her off. "How about this reunion can postpone until we all get out of those stuffy shuttle? Hugs and kisses with fresh air," I smiled briefly, although it was sarcastic.

"Yeah!" Someone yelled.

"That's Octavia Blake!" Someone recognized. "The girl they found hidden in the floor!"

I hummed as Octavia launched at the person who had spoken those words, but Bellamy swiftly restrained her with an arm around her waist. "Octavia, Octavia no. Let's give them something else to remember you by."

"Yeah, like what?" She broke from his hold, still angered.

His smirk was like the devil, "Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years." They both shared a similar, familiar smile, before Bellamy pivoted on his heel and grasped the handle that you had to jerk down to release the ramp from the outside. He inclined his head to the side and met my eyes, but it wasn't like a friend looking at a friend – it was an enemy challenging an enemy. He peered at me like he was the predator, and I was the prey – and he was also in for a very rude awakening.

The doors barged open as he clasped the handle and hauled it down, and I stepped forward just as sunlight blasted into my eyes. I squinted and a headache blared in my head from the intense beams, but when I blinked, my vision began adjusting properly.

And what I saw – was green. Lots and lots of green. Lengthy trees reached to the skies I had never seen until now, forestry was laid upon my eyes, waiting for what felt like my presence alone. It was, it was grand and I wished that Ace could be here to see it firsthand.

Octavia took steps down the ramp, eyes wide and mouth propped open in astounding awe. She inhaled through her nose, breathing out the fresh air of oxygen that awaited her senses. We had never breathed in air that wasn't running from a machine in our entire lives, this felt like a new beginning.

She stepped both boot-cladded feet onto the ground, smirking victoriously. Without turning around, she raised both fist in the air, shouting, "We're back, bitches!" Even I couldn't help but release a blatant cheer at how enthusiastic she screamed. Everyone began rushing into the forest, restless and craving to run on earth and enjoy it with all their might.

I stayed where I was, leaned against the opening, watching as most of them made a fool out of themselves. Clarke stepped on the ground as if she savored every inch her boots took up, before settling her gaze on something, and began marching toward it – but not before stopping and turning her gaze to me. "Marcel. Want to join me?" She asked.

I grinned, jumping off the ramp and giving her a huge hug. I hadn't seen her in what felt like years. "Clarke. It's been awhile." I trekked with her into the landscape, my eyes soaking in what earth offered. It was pure beauty.

"Yeah," her breathing wavered. "Just a little while."

I frowned as she rolled out the map that had been in her right hand, studying the lines that meant river. Ridge was written in bold lettering with Mt Weather structured directly beside it. "Is something wrong?" I asked her as her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows furrowed with worrisome musings.

I followed her gaze to the mountain just beyond a river, and my eyes widened in realization. "Oh," I stuttered.

"Why so serious, princess?" A voice inquired unexpectedly between us two, and I whirled around to locate the male. It was the space bandit boy. His smile widened at the sight of me. "Well, at least your making friends," he told Clarke, who had yet to answer. He held out his hand. "Finn."

I hesitated before gripping it firmly. "Marcel."

"Lovely."

"Charming."

He grinned. "I think we'll get along jus' fine, sweetheart." He revolved his attention to Clarke, who was still pinching her lips with concern and was studying the mountain. "Hey, it's not like we died in a fiery explosion."

"Try telling that to the two guys that tried to follow you out of their seats." She quipped, harshly.

He grimaced, but she didn't notice and he attempted to hide it. "You don't like being called princess, do you princess? Does she, sweetheart?" The nicknames were beginning to become not flattering, at all.

I rolled my eyes sardonically, "I can't imagine why."

"Do you see that peak over there?" Clarke gestured. He looked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Mount Weathers. There's a radiation full forest between us and our next meal."

"So we did go off course," I huffed with a struggling grin. "Well, go figure."

"They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain." Clarke said, her voice dripping with begrudging anger.

* * *

After Clarke and Finn had departed separately, I decided I wanted to explore around myself. The forest was full of unanswered mysteries, and some of the plants I didn't even know the names of.

Dirt and twigs crunched underneath the soles of my boots as I gradually, or reluctantly, traced my steps back toward the drop ship. People were still goofing around and laughing too loudly, but I easily slipped by those people and found myself approaching Clarke and Wells.

"… The communications system is dead." Wells was saying, his expression concealing worry. "I went to the roof, a dozen panels are missing, heat fried the wires." I almost simultaneously saw the tension coating the area between Wells and Clarke, and was surprised by her stiff silence.

"Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weathers," she said softly, gazing away and down at the map.

"I think I could help in that field of department," I hopped onto the ramp, crouching on the heels of my feet.

I startled Clarke, who blinked and jumped at my presence. "Going to Mount Weathers?" She asked.

"Oh, um, no. I mean I could, but I was talking about the communications. I was already thinking about if I could use the leftover fuel from the shuttle to keep the lights and electricity on as long as we can." I sat back and crossed my ankles together, my palms balancing me backwards. "Piece of cake. You head out there, bring back some food, I give us light. We're the heroes, congrats."

She frowned at me. "You'd do it for the favor of others?"

"Clarke, honey, trust me – with people around us like Bellamy, you need the favor of others." I slung myself backward off the ramp, landing squarely on my feet. She gazed at me with shock and a little disappointment. "Don't you worry, Clarke. Just gotta know what you're doing!" I scanned the drop ship. "Where's the access to the roof?"

"Gotta climb, there's a ladder around back." Wells announced, eyes focused on me.

"Ah, fun. I'll see you two around. Don't leave without proper goodbyes!" I pushed my way through the overgrowth of plants and ferns, circling my way around the large structure of the shuttle. I slung myself up the first hung, balancing my weight before making the lengthy climb to the top. The terrain while I was ascending, if possible, became even more celestial. It was just way over my head, no pun intended.

I could only scale the ladder halfway up the drop ship before it ended, and since I was familiar with the design, I knew I had to circle to the front of the shuttle and clamber up the next extension ladder. Placing my hands flat against the small surface that allowed you to scramble over to the front, I used the strength in my arms to tug myself over the ladder and onto the ledge.

It was just wide enough to fit my foot perpendicular to the drop ship, and I carefully used the handles the shuttle provided to lead my around.

I had perfect timing, it seems.

"Screw your father," Octavia sneered at Wells. "What you think you're in charge here? You and . . . your little princess?" She turned her sharp blue eyes to Clarke with distaste.

"Do you think we care who's in charge?" Clarke questioned, ever the innocent one. "We _need_ to get to Mount Weather. Not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this will be." I had to give her points for the unnecessarily long motive speech, like father like daughter, as they say.

People were gathering around, clustering into groups, listening and whispering to one another. I rapidly realized I was not the only one on the side of the shuttle, especially when Finn crouched to my right, observing the scene from this height.

"How long do you think we'll last without those supplies?" Clarke asked, her voice solemn and serious. "We're looking at a twenty mile trek. Okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave. Now."

Bellamy curled his bottom lip, and I almost laughed because I knew he was about to say something ridiculous and selfish. "I gotta better idea. You two go. Find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change."

Most responded with a chorus of, "Yeah!"

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time," I announced, laughing from my position. "And I've heard a lot of stupid stuff."

Bellamy glared, his back stiffening. "How about you join them, Marcy? There's no one here to miss you either."

"That actually hurt, Blake. And I was actually thinking of repairing this hunk-of-junk for you." I tapped on the metal behind me. "You might not miss me, but you will miss electricity," I grinned devilishly.

"You're not listening," Wells said, feverishly gesturing with his arms. "We _all_ need to go."

Someone from behind Wells swept forward and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. "Look at this everybody. The chancellor of earth."

People chuckled, amused by the moniker. Wells didn't seem so entertained. "You think that's funny?" He asked, face hardening.

The boy suddenly burst forward and kicked Wells ankle, knocking him to the ground without much effort. Clarke called out, attempting to come to his recuse, but someone restrained her backward. I could not do much from my high position, I could drop the ground, but I wasn't exactly lithe as a panther so I would more than likely end up breaking a leg rather than saving the day.

"No. But that was," the boy sneered. I didn't know who he was, but he reminded me of a ferret for some reason. He had puffy lips, his nose was too long, and his forehead to broad. I didn't like this guy, at all. He was just a bully, like Bellamy.

Wells struggled to his feet, his ankle failing him. The boy taunted him, gesturing for him to fight with a wild smile. I smirked as Finn swung himself around and to the ground, surprising every one of his appearance. "Kid's got one leg," he said, "how about you wait until it's a fair fight?"

That. Was. Badass. I mentally cheered for him but it was abruptly deflated when Octavia walked forward, her moves graceful and seductive. "Hey spacewalker," she announced. "Rescue me next."

I almost literally gagged aloud. And Bellamy obviously caught my expression and I pointed into my mouth, acting as if I was fixing to throw up. The fact that I was grinning like a wolf the whole time didn't help the matter, so his face shifted murderously and he clenched his jaw, a muscle jumping as his teeth clicked together harshly. But in all seriousness, I wasn't sure if her damsel in distress signal was adequate or she was offering him quick sex – I think it was both. But Finn seemed to appreciate it, either way.

I snickered to myself, turning around and scaling to the top of the drop ship. My mood went from teasing and sarcastic, to serious and concern in two seconds tops. Wells had been correct, panels _were_ missing. I dropped down to my knees and gently pried off on of the panels, hissing at how hot the metal was as I placed it to the side. The wires underneath had went into overheat when we had fallen, the pressure of the fall had lit them aflame. Some were charred black, and some were useable, but they could be replaced if I could find a batch of some that weren't needed around the shuttle.

Like the plasma TV's – my eyes lit up. They weren't the same kind of wore like the drop ship's, but it wasn't nothing which meant it was something. I quickly climbed back down to ground level, machinery ideas and plotting already scheming around in my head as I went to the front of the drop ship.

I almost ran straight into Bellamy, who was watching his sister leave with four others. "Whoa! They didn't say goodbye?" I pouted. "Can't ask a favor anywhere around here, can you?" I scanned his pensive and calculating expression, his eyes observing the band around his wrist. "Oh, don't worry, Blake. I'm sure your sister will get rescued by spacewalker," I winked.

He frowned at me. "You're not going to last out here," he said, tone laced with venom. "I'll make sure of that."

"Where is all of this hostility coming from, Bellamy?" I grabbed the sides of his jacket, tucking up his collar. "I'm just playing the game with no rules."

He caught my wrist, the pressure of his fingers bruising. I smiled though, because I knew I could rile him up with just my words. "What's wrong, Blake? Can't play?"

He smirked, and I frowned as he leaned forward, his lips brushing my ear as his clasp on my wrist tightened until I was forced to wince. "I love how you think you can have the last word, Quinn. This is my game, not yours. There are no rules," he pushed himself back and we glared at one another, "and there are no replays."

"Should we start making videogame references?" My voice wavered, and he caught it, releasing his hold on my arm. I rubbed the swollen skin, my teeth gritting.

"I enjoy our talks," he smirked, shoving past me with his shoulder jarring into my own.

I didn't even want to know his definition of 'enjoy'.

* * *

"So you wanna tell me why Clarke seems to spite you?" I had halted from making any real progress with the wiring, deciding to wait until dark when the heated panels would cool down. I didn't need to get any burns when we had no medical supplies to extend. So I decided to bug the hell out of Wells.

"No." He carried the lumber in his arms, trekking toward the spot he had been placing wood.

"Well, come on, Chancellor. It's just a question. I know the reason, I wanna know why." I almost charged into his back as he made an abrupt stop, the wood almost smacking into my stomach as he whirled around. "Whoa there, watch it, Wells!"

He didn't apologize. "How do you _know_ about that?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

"Wha – seriously? My brother was one of the engineers that found out about the oxygen, Wells. Of course I knew about it!"

"Oh." He seemed relieved.

"And I know her mother was the one who turned her father in –"

"Well, then why are you asking me anything? You seem to know all about it." He said, sounding annoyed and vexed. "Now leave me the hell alone." Just as he dropped the wood on the pile, someone spoke behind her.

"Find any water yet?" It was the kid who tried to hit Wells earlier, his name was Murphy, a name that did not really fit the boy.

"No," Wells answered. "Not yet. I'm going back out if you want to come."

My eyes were drawn to the words Murphy had scrawled on the metal of the shuttle, 'FIRST SON, FIRST TO DYE'. I snorted instinctively, but not for the reason most would believe.

"You know, my father, he begged for mercy in the airlock chamber when your father _floated_ him." Murphy had a surprisingly blank face as he spoke, but you could hear the revenge seeking in his voice.

Wells didn't grimace nor frown at their words, instead, he walked past me and shoved his shoulder into Murphy's. "You spelled die wrong, geniuses." He stormed away, I had to guess going to locate a source of water.

Murphy smirked at Wells as he observed the boy go, but his attention swiftly went from him to me. "I don't think we've met," he said, not extending his hand. I didn't want him to either. "The name's Murphy."

"Marcel."

"Yeah, I've heard about you. Mechanic's daughter."

"Sister, actually." I grinned like a wolf, stalking towards him. "And wanna know what else? Rumors don't lie, I did kill that guard, so back off of Wells, or I can arrange another _forceful_ accident." I smiled, stepping around the two boys just in time to narrowly miss crashing into Bellamy, which I seemed to be doing a lot recently. "Oh, Blake. Just having a friendly chat here, hope your game plotting is going well, cause mine sure is." I winked at the taller boy, despite my five-foot-ten height he still seemed to force my neck to crane back.

I swiftly strolled away from the trio, a frown morphing onto my face. To be honest, Bellamy frightened me. I didn't let it show on the outside, because I knew if he knew I was scared, he would feed from that source like a fucking leach. But he was different from when we were fifteen and sixteen, and not the good kind of different.

* * *

When nightfall reached, it only took me a total of five minutes to unhook one of the flat screens from the wall of the drop ship. Which meant it was generally difficult to reach the latch to unhook it. I placed it softly on the ground and used the makeshift knife I had created to pop off the plastic back. The wires weren't as thick as the ones in the panels, but you could easily rip off the insulators and mix the wires together, and by easy I meant very dangerous. I need rubber and pliers, but it was a risk I would take since the power in the shuttle was not even running. If I did get shocked, it would be only mildly.

"How's your ankle?" I yanked on the yellow plastic-covered wires as I saw Wells collapse on the ground, his back against the wall.

"Not as swollen."

I snorted. "I highly doubt that, since you been walking on it all day." Using the tip of the knife, I cut the wires free and looped them twice around my wrist. "I would ask you to help me, but you look like you could use some rest." I held up the wrist-coiled hand. "One panel at a time."

"Be careful," he called.

"I'll try." I shoved the parachute door aside. I blinked as there was a massive amount of cheering coming from the bonfire that someone had scraped together. Out of curiosity, I approached it cautiously, watching in disinterest as Murphy cut some girl's bracelet off with his knife. It looked painful and unorthodox, but the other survivors seemed down set on screaming for it.

"Someone else?" My eyes went to Bellamy, who hadn't had a band to begin with. I closed my eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, now coming to an understanding on why he was doing this. "Marcy, maybe you?" When I reopened my eyes, he was standing right before me, the left side of his face glowing the color of rust from the fire.

People were almost screeching out to practically force it off of me, and I knew that if that's what they wanted, Bellamy would do it for the sake of their attention and for their admiration towards him. It was part of the game. "I don't think so," I made move to whirl around and march to do what I came outside to do, but panic overridden my senses when his arm locked my throat into a chokehold.

It was one of those moments where you are like, "_Wow, I did not expect that_," – because I truly did not. I kept forgetting that this Bellamy was not the one I knew before, which made him unpredictable. This one was aggressive and was obviously not afraid to inflict pain toward anyone.

I lost my footing on the ground as his arm constricted around my throat, and I wished that I had not even came here, I should have went straight up to the roof of the drop ship. The other people around me cheered in approval, and I could only imagine the chaos of no rules and no boundaries that Bellamy was allowing them to use.

With my weight to the ground, I gripped his forearm and attempted to rip it away. "Let go of me!" I cried, choking on my breath. I fell backwards against his legs as his arm disappeared, making me cough to regain oxygen. I went to stand to my feet but he pressed his knee against my back, and Murphy grabbed my right arm, forcing my wrist against the stump they had been using to cut people's bracelets off and throwing them into the raging bonfire.

"You can't do this!" I shouted, his knee digging into the middle of my back. I did not want people from the Ark to think I was dead, I didn't want them to forget why I was here – and if they did send me for a reason, I did not want them to be disappointed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wells demanded, his eyes trained on me and then they went to Bellamy.

"Liberating ourselves," he answered matter-of-factly. "What does it look like?" His knee dug deeper into the small crevice of my spine, forcing my head closer to the raging fire as it crackled and popped ashes into the air.

"Looks like restraining someone against their will and trying to get us all killed," Wells responded, eyes wide. His lips twisted downward as he studied my disabled position. "The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we got – take them off and the ark will think were dying. That it's not safe for them to follow."

"That's the point, Chancellor." Bellamy said, his voice calm. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Like hell," I struggled in Murphy's grip, but his fingers dug into my forearm.

"Can't we?" He shouted to the others, and they all screamed in agreement.

"You think this is a game? Those aren't just our friends and our parents up there, they're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers – I don't care what he tells you, we won't survive here on our own." Wells circled the ground, trying to get his point across. "And besides, if it really is safe, why would you not want the rest of our people to come down?"

"My people, are already down. Those people, _locked_ my people up. Those _people_, killed my mother for having a second child." Bellamy weight departed from my back, but I was still pinned against the ground. He approached Wells, anger lacing his voice. "Your father did that."

"My father didn't write the laws."

"He enforced them." Bellamy stated. "But not anymore. Not here – here, there are no laws. Here – we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want. You don't haft to like it, Wells. You can even try to stop it, change it – kill me. You know why," he smirked ruggedly, "whatever the hell we want."

"_Whatever the hell we want_!" They began chorusing. "_Whatever the hell we want!_"

"Cut the bullshit, Blake!" I sneered. "Get him off me or I swear –"

"You'll what?" Murphy hissed in my ear. "Some more death threats, sweetheart?" He harshly jammed the knife between my skin and bracelet, jerking upward once so the needles fell free of my skin. I cried out in pain as the blade cut into some of my arm, my legs scrambling backward as he released me.

White hot anger sung through my veins. I launched myself at Murphy, intent on clawing out his eyes with my fingernails, but one of Bellamy's men, Atom, grabbed me by the waist to hold me back. Thunder crackled through the night sky, and rain began pouring down around us.

I sighed in defeat and misery. Not only could not reenact revenge, but I couldn't work on the drop ship with it raining. I lunged out of Atom's arms, walking to Bellamy and gripping the collar of his jacket

Bellamy's face expressed surprise and something else as I yanked him down a little ways to my height, my teeth bared against his ear. "Game. _On_." The whisper was faint, but I clearly got the point across as my palm shoved brutally against his chest, beginning a challenge where it would lead me to places I had worlds away, never dreamed of occurring.

It wouldn't be the last time I'd pick a game with no rules, though.


	2. Earth Skills

"_Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."_

_Helen Keller_

**The Game with no Rules – **_Earth Skills_

I was beginning to feel the first clash of hunger pains coiling through my stomach, and the hydration of water was not helping at all. And to top it all off, the air in the forestry was humidly feverish after the antecedent night of pouring rain.

I had even pried off the top half of my jumpsuit, which had been sticking to my skin with a thin layer of sweat. My dark blue tank top was covered in substances that I wasn't sure of yet, but I didn't ponder on the subject too thoroughly. Before dawn, I had distinguished myself to the rooftop of the drop ship, a bundle of wires wrapped around my wrist and my makeshift knife shoved into my right pocket.

I propped myself in a cross-legged position on one of the unbroken panels, focusing on one of the damaged portions with all of my focused concentration. I knew that I would regret later having to do this, but I unhooked the top-half of my jumpsuit and tore the dry inside of my jacket out, wrapping thin strips around my fingertips. It wasn't one hundred percent dry cotton, but it would pass as protection from electrical burns for now.

As morning and noon swiftly approached, the other prisoners made quiet the racket of sounds. A headache loomed around my temples as a group of boys constantly played some type of tag-and-catch game, running over and nearly knocking over anyone in their path. It was annoying as hell.

After yelping a dozen times from a spark igniting against my palm or index fingers, I finally decided a break was in order. I climbed down the ladder, hearting a commotion from the front of the shuttle. My concern instantly swept out to Wells, who I was aware had had his wristband forced off as well sometime during the night by Bellamy and his little henchmen groupies.

But I was going down too fast, and the bars were still coated in perspiration from last night's weather. Without so much as a warning, a shout ripped from my mouth as my foot slipped through one of the hungs, and my whole body tipped backward from momentum. I instinctively tried to grab anything that could stabilize my weight, but I came up empty-handed.

When my back slammed against the outer wall of the shuttle, bright red colors flashed in my vision, followed by a pain blossoming through my lungs and midsection. The oxygen escaped my lungs and I felt my now bruised ankle slip through the ladder, my body now plummeting to the earth like lead.

I was so stupid, why hadn't I been slower?

Retrieving all of the energy I had preserved, my arms outstretched and I blindly tried to clasp one of the hungs as I free-fell to my death. My whole body jerked with agony as I caught myself once before I descended about ten feet, landing on my feet before impacting on some roots with my back.

And I just laid there, because it was all I could really do. Head spinning with dizziness, I propped myself up on my elbows and breathed in and out with soothing relief. Note to self: allow only one close call with Death a day. No need to make it a regular visitation.

"Marcel!" A voice called out, searching, and I smiled as Clarke came sprinting around the drop ship. She glimpsed down once at my bare wrist, and grimaced visibly. "You too? Wait – what are you doing?" She examined me, prone on the ground.

"Hm? This? Oh, y'know," I hoisted myself to my feet, fighting the urge to wince at the pain radiating through my upper-body. "I'm just, um, hanging around." The pun was so ironic that I almost burst into loud hysterical laughter. I must have hit my head far harder than I had originally thought.

She smiled airily, "Do that a lot lately?"

"Should have heard Bellamy with that girl last night. I was about to hang something."

"Oh," she laughed lightly, her musical chuckles chiming through the cricket chirping air. "That's gross, Marcel!" She swatted my arm, and I restrained a yelp of pain as she tapped at the tender muscle. Clarke's blue eyes suddenly clouded with troubling thoughts. "You need to know, remember how we were going to go to Mount Weathers?"

"Of course." How could I forget the source of my survival on earth?

"We didn't get there. Jasper got caught – h-hit, he was hit." She halted our advances back to camp, a hand on my shoulder as she gazed seriously into my eyes. "We're not alone here, Marcel."

I furrowed my eyebrows, not comprehending that statement. "You mean – you mean not alone by –"

"There's others here. _Grounders_."

I felt like I should have previously stayed lying on the ground. The impact of the situation struck me hard, and I placed the heel of my hand against my sweaty forehead, standing rigid. "That – does not sound good. At all." I steeled my gaze on hers, seeing the determination lingering in her azure blue eyes. "Count me in. When are we going to get Jasper?"

She smiled softly at my rush to join the rescue team, her hand coming to grasp my arm gently. "Right now."

* * *

When Bellamy Blake came into view of my peripheral vision, I almost tipped over in pure shock of his appearance. He had stripped off his guard jacket as well, leaving him in black pants and a dark blue tee-shirt, similar to the shade of my top. Just like when we were sixteen, his hair was wild and unkempt across his head, not combed back neatly. He was leaned over Octavia, who was whimpering under the touch of the wet wash cloth he pressed against her injured leg. Clarke had gave me the rundown of the events prior, and I had to say that the girl was lucky to not have lost her leg.

"You could've been killed," Bellamy explained to his sister sternly, tying a piece of clothing around her thigh.

"She would have been if Jasper hadn't of jumped in and pulled her out." Clarke's voice cutting in shocked me, and I halted just short of crashing into her smaller form. I steadied a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in confusion to why she was even starting a civil conversation with Bellamy. It was less than he deserved.

Octavia looked up, hopeful. Her gaze caught mine briefly, and she frowned in contempt. "Are you guys leaving? I'm coming." She tightened the cloth around her thigh, mentally preparing herself to stand up and do another trek through the forest.

Bellamy agilely pulled himself to his feet, hand clamping around her arm. "No. No way. Not again."

"He's right," Clarke informed. "You're leg's just going to slow us down." She shifted her body so she was angling more towards Bellamy, and dread seeped into my core as she spoke those next words I silently knew were coming: "I'm here for you."

"What?" I gritted my teeth and ran my fingers through my knotty black hair, my stress levels already rising rapidly.

"Clarke? What are you doing?" Wells seem to read my exact thoughts.

"I hear you have a gun," she said, staring intently as Bellamy tilted his head to the side to narrow his gaze on her.

"What?" I hissed, the word becoming very familiar. "You have a gun?"

He lifted a part of his shirt, revealing sun-kissed skin and a black gun shoved into the waistband. "What, Marcy? Angry because I'm one step ahead?"

"Jackass," I scoffed aloud, taking a step forward despite Clarke maneuvering herself to be between the two of us. Octavia sprung up to defend her brother, but he calmly placed a hand on her shoulder again, wordlessly allowing his pride as a male to step forward.

Clarke smiled, oblivious to the tension or she was just ignoring the thick silence. "Good. Follow me." She stepped around him, but I remained still, my back as stiff as a board.

"And why would I do that?" Bellamy questioned, annoyed.

"Because you want _them_ to follow you," she indicate her head toward the lounging prisoners, "and right now, they're thinking only one of us is scared." She gave him a half-smirk, seeing the resolve harden his expression.

I connected my eyes to his, and our glares clashed. I sighed internally. My life just got so much more complicated and I hadn't even done anything except slipped off the side of the drop ship.

He snorted in disgust, slinging his jacket on. "Murphy. Come with me."

I took notice of the boy I had lunged at last night, and had attempted lacerate with my hands. He was heavily beaten, splotches of bruises littering his face – at least someone finally put the asshole in his place. I made a snorting sound, marching forward so I could escape the eyes of the duo. I reached Clarke's back and practically yelled in her ear. "What. Are. You. Thinking?"

"They aren't just bullies Clarke, they're dangerous criminals." Wells tried to reprimand her decision, but her face remained neutral.

"I'm counting on it," she stated.

I fell back from their quick pace, my thoughts fluctuating wildly. This was not exactly what I had signed up for, walking miles deeper into the woods with the person that perhaps wished to harm me was not exactly protocol on the keep-out-of-danger scale. Biting my thumb nail, I inclined my head to the side to see Murphy and Bellamy walk around the bend of one of the parachutes, his gaze settled on Clarke from the distance.

Oh, just wonderful – now I had to watch blondies back. She made an enemy that she more than likely did not realize would actually enforce enemy tendencies. Which generally meant mental suffering and paranoia – or perhaps that was just me.

"Since when are we in the rescuing business, huh?" Murphy growled out, his faint words becoming boomingly loud in my ears as he stomped behind his leader.

"The Ark think the prince is dead, if they think the princess is too, they'll never come down." Bellamy stated, hiking forward. I hunched forward and shoved my hands into my pockets, looking down so I didn't trip over a random root. "I'm getting that wristband. Even if I haft to cut off her hand to do it."

This time, I did glance back at them purposely. After the encounter last night, Bellamy had enforced his power to me, but that did not mean I would not do the same to him. We always seemed to have a silent communication through our eyes, and this was nonetheless one of those moments. My olive green eyes burned with warning, and by the smirk curling his upper-lip, he had intentionally allowed me to hear those words.

"Keep up, boys," I said, as if speaking to children. "We wouldn't want to leave you two to get lost and stranded, now would we?" My voice clearly betrayed otherwise.

Bellamy returned my expression, his eyes still coy underneath the shadowy silhouette the trees casted against the forest floor. He formed a chuckle underneath his breath, as if he was sharing an insider joke with himself about me, and stalked forward ahead. "Hey, hold up," he called to Wells and Clarke, Murphy close on his heels as the two passed me. I just comprehended he had his gun in his hand, which made me oddly nervous. "What's the rush?" He asked casually, waving the weapon as if showing off a prize. "You don't survive a spear through the heart."

Wells scowled, "Put the gun away, Bellamy."

Murphy launched forward and shoved his shoulder, hostility radiating from his aura. "Well, why don't you do something about it," he snarled.

Clarke intervened, voice placidly calm. "Jasper screamed when they moved him. If the spear had struck his heart he would have died instantly." She angled herself to continue walking in the direction Jasper had been captured. "It doesn't mean we have time to waste –"She was cut off by Bellamy lunging forward and gripping her wrist, her arm hurtling forward from the pressure of his grasp.

Alert and apprehension soared through my senses, and I swiftly clasped his shoulder, ready to rip him away from Clarke if that was what it took. "As soon as you take this wristband off," he said bitterly, "we can go."

She jerked back, lips pursed into a thin line. "The only way the Ark is going to think I'm dead, is if I'm dead." Clarke had got into Bellamy's face, so I gave her ten points for not cowering and having the balls to stand up for herself – it didn't make it any less stupid, though. "Got it?" She snapped, eyes shining with defiance.

I quickly retracted my hand as Bellamy shifted on his feet, licking his lips and that twisted smile coiling his mouth. "Brave princess," he tilted his head mockingly. He peered down at her with hidden contempt and frustration, because I could see right through him with his emotions (albeit not so much with his actions) – and perhaps that was why he hated me so much.

Hearing a twig snap behind me, I whirled around just in time to see Finn walking toward us, his stride confident. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a blue vest, his long hair brushed back from his naturally handsome face. "How about you find your own nickname?" He called out, voice bemused. "Call this a rescue party? Gotta split up, cover more ground. Clarke, come with me."

As the two marched away, already whispering in hushed voices, heads ducked low, I swiftly considered my options. "Wells, you're with me –"

"Yeah, I don't think so." Before I could step forward to join the Chancellor's son, Bellamy's fingers curled around my bicep, keeping me in step beside him as he began marching perpendicular to Finn and Clarke's direction. "I need to have a word with you."

"Ooh-kay," I was not excited for this. He had completed the action in a split second so I couldn't really deny and retreat to Wells like a dog with it's between its legs. When my eyes averted to glance in his direction after a full minute of silence, I shuddered to see him scrutinizing the black markings along my right shoulder, disappearing along the shoulder trim of my tank top. The ebony swirls were elaborate, spiky and Victorian.

"I remember when you got that," he said, almost nostalgically. As if realizing what he had just said, a frown plastered on Bellamy's face as he halted in walking, the sound of birds chirping and flying animatedly directly above us. "Right," he reminded himself. His autumn-colored eyes locked on mine. "You need to stop trying to give the drop ship electricity."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his words, my face contorting with perplex. "Wait. You want me to _stop_ –"

"Yes."

"- trying to give us light in the dark, which would be pretty damn useful, as well as the communications system back up and running?"

"That's the _exact_ reason why."

I blanched, still in disbelief. I crossed my arms underneath my chest, the wind whipping my hair forward and into my face. "Unbelievable," I scoffed. "What did you do, Blake?"

"What makes you –"

"I know you."

"Well, I know _you_."

"Then you know I won't stop until you answer the damn question."

A muscle clenched in his jaw as frustration seeped into his expression. He spoke darkly, "I don't have to answer any of your questions." Bellamy took a step forward – a step too close – and I followed by leaning backwards a few inches. "And you don't have the privilege of asking."

"I assume it was for you to get on the drop ship."

"You can assume all you want."

The conversation was trailing off into a direction I was not willing to go. I observed as Bellamy whirled on his heel, intent on walking away from me –

"_Bellamy, no, please – you know I didn't –"My hand fisted the back of his shirt, my face pressed into one of his shoulder blade as tears soaked through the fabric. Why was he doing this? He should know, he should know I would have never disconnected that line. It had been a technical problem all on its own – I didn't – I couldn't kill my own brother! _

"_You killed him," he didn't turn and his voice was like ice._

_He didn't force my hands away from his person, because he knew as he walked away, I would not follow. Nor would I call out for him after I felt as if I had been stabbed through the chest with a dull knife._

_I lost my hold and my knees buckled beneath me. _

_I just watched him walk away._

_And he didn't look back._

"Blake," my quiet, softer tone had his back straightening in interest. I ran my right hand through my inky black waves with anxiety, a nervous habit I had inherited annoyingly. I didn't know what to say – Bellamy had the ability to say a sentence and you'd be so thrown off your reply would be gibberish or something that would embarrass you to near tears. I used to think that I was the only person that could ever deal with him in a conversation like this – but I was dreadfully wrong.

But I knew Bellamy was selfish, and I knew that despite his own needs, he put the people he loved in front of him first, Octavia being a prime example. That was what counted, in my eyes, despite our many alternating differences. "Give me a solid reason to go by, and I'll stop," the words were spoken underneath my breath.

I could see the hesitation and secrets swimming in his eyes. "Do you – _really_ want the rest to come down here? The very counsel that threw you into solitary all those years?"

"I killed a man –"

"He attacked you, Marcel. In cold blood. Just because he was buddy-buddy with Jace –"Bellamy's face twisted painfully. "The trial was not justified correctly – they were wrong and _foolish_ –"He breathed heavily, face coloring red. He swiftly gained control, though, and calmly began, "Jaha knew what he was saying when he ordered you as a Delinquent and to be floated. You're twenty for Christ's sake! They literally made you think every day that you were going to die for two years!"

I shook my head, the ground becoming very fascinating as he continued to rant. I had never realized how strongly he had felt on this topic (and it was a topic I really did not want to linger on). I had never knew the reason to why they had waited so long – why had they not just floated me on my eighteenth birthday?

"They planned this ahead. They sent us here to die, Marcy. Do you really –"

"I have nothing to lose." I quickly interceded. "But people on the Ark do, Bellamy. There's innocent people there."

"If they come down here, Marcel," his eyes implored mine, "your fate will be absolute as the one you held at the Ark. Don't go on about second chances and wiped slates, that's shit and you know it." Bellamy inhaled sharply, as if he was pained to be giving me such a long-lasting speech.

It was almost amusing, because he looked as if he had just given me a love sonnet he had been writing for the past two years – but he had actually shoved into my face the fact that I could die if the Ark came down. "Just think on it," he murmured lowly, trudging past me and through the tree line that lead back toward Murphy and Wells.

My position was numb and cowed by his haunting words. What if he was right, though? I wasn't stupid, Bellamy was attempting to win me over for his own bidding – I understood that fact, but it did not make his words any less the truth.

I had killed the guard, and it had been Jaha's best friend, Clarke's dad's best friend as well. I had murdered him in cold blood once I had found out his true intentions of confronting me about Ace, how could I not though? When someone commands your death for you 'supposedly' taking the life of your only family aboard the Ark? I had been furious and blinded by rage.

I had been locked away into solitary confinement for four years.

Do you know what that does to a person? Could I chance going back into those boxes with the only sound of voice being a guard who grunted a "you're welcome" after I thanked them for my daily meal? Could I?

I knew the answer to that question, but I was disinclined still.

Still detached, I continued trekking back toward the boys. My mind was in overdrive with possibilities and my worst fears. I missed the me that wanted the Ark to not think I was dead, but now Bellamy had practically forced my insecurities and nightmares right down my throat.

After of what felt like walking for hours upon hours, I stepped past a treeline that revealed to me a creek. It was glorious yet simple, water cascading down slipper moss-covered rocks. The water appeared fresh and clear, and I was not afraid to even once douse myself into the water for a few minutes. Standing knee-deep, I washed my face and took in bountiful mouthfuls, which caused me to not ignore the raging hunger in the pit of my empty stomach.

"Oh, Marcel!" I darted my eyes upward, toward the opposite side of the creek, and spotted Wells, his seatbelt-makeshift pack's buckle shining directly in my eyes. "We're down here! Finn and Clarke found some stuff to lead us to Jasper!"

I smiled at the good news, the only good thing I had heard all day. "Okay, go ahead – I'll catch up in just a sec!" He seemed reluctant at the thought of leaving me, but he followed my wishes with a short nod of his head.

I strolled over the rocks and onto the other side of the bank, strolling casually back toward the group. My eyes drifted closed as I walked, and I wondered when the last time I had gotten sleep was. I couldn't remember – and Bellamy's speech did not have me thinking clearly. God, what if I made a lonely based decision based on sleep deprivation?

"You wanna keep it down or should I paint a target on your back?" Finn's annoyed voice approached me as I finally reached the others. I hung back, not caring at this point if they hadn't noticed my presence. He examined a broken twig from a bush intently, and I almost rolled my eyes on how ridiculous it looked. Tracking things was not in my expertise area, at all. I think I'll stick with machinery.

When I visualized the drops of blood on the ground, I felt like throwing up. What pain had Jasper experienced?

"See?" I heard Bellamy's snide, mocking voice. "You're invisible." He was speaking to Wells, the mocha-colored skinned boy frowning with distaste toward him. I had not a clue what they were speaking of until I saw Wells gaze at Clarke, something in his expression had me wondrous.

Abruptly, I went rigid when a moan filled the air, it was almost like a devastated cry. Not a scream, though, which made the whole sound ten times more fucking frightening. "What the hell?" I conceded in a hushed tone, my eyes locking with Clarke's concerned blue ones.

"What the hell was that?" Murphy asked, looking toward the general direction of the sound.

Clarke stood back up from examining the blood, her gaze washing over all of us before landing on Bellamy. "Now would be a good time to take out that gun."

I followed directly behind her as we marched up a small hill, ignoring the bushes and twigs snagging at the long locks of my hair. I had thought about cutting it shorter, like I used to, but then I began thinking: what would Bellamy think? Which was utterly ridiculous to even consider his opinion, but it wasn't as much as his opinion other than his judgment. I had my hair cut to the tops of my shoulders when we were sixteen, when we were friends, how would he take that? Good? Bad? Hatred? The latter was more than likely.

When we located the noise, I didn't know which was scarier. The weirdly-shaped tree that Jasper was hanging from, or the blood that caked his midsection. Either way, the whole situation was blown into proportion.

"Jasper," Clarke gasped in horror, his moans effecting her in the worse possible way. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Jasper!" Clarke began racing forward, her determination to save him undeterred by anything – which, generally, meant that someone was going to get hurt.

Bellamy was directly in front of me, a hair's breath away, scoffing: "What the hell is this –" I didn't see anything clearly, but the next thing I knew, Clarke had cried out and Bellamy was lunging forward and gripping the blonde's wrist in order to keep her ascended from the spikes that laid beneath.

She had fallen into a trap.

Yelping with urgency, I circled my right arm around Bellamy's middle, to keep him up right and to not allow momentum to force him into the pit of spikes as well. Another pair of hands assisted me in dragging him backwards, with Wells and Finn jumping forward to drag Clarke out.

"You okay?" Finn asked her with care, her breathy indication of yes shaky.

I released Bellamy, and observed as he tilted his head to meet my gaze. "I saw that," I growled at him, hushed, so the others could not dare hear me. He had hesitated after clutching onto Clarke's wrist, as if he was considering allowing her to fall to her death.

He narrowed his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about. She's safe."

That she was. I had no choice but to let the situation fleet, because I knew bashing him would do no good and would neither effect nor cause him harm. I turned and tugged Clarke into a hug, occurring to me that she could have just died, if Bellamy's reflexes hadn't of been swift enough. She returned the embrace, pressing her forehead into my shoulder for a quick second.

"We need to get him down," Clarke said, voice strained with pants.

Finn volunteered first, "I'll climb up there and cut the vines."

Wells made move to follow, "I'll go with you."

"No – stay with Clarke." Finn's eyes landed distrustfully on Bellamy. "And watch him. You, with me." Murphy rolled his eyes with contempt, following Finn after a moment of hesitation.

"There's a pulses on his wound." Clarke announced uncertainty, gazing at Jasper.

"Like medicine?" Wells asked, sticking close to her side.

I scowled, "That's their game? They shoot first and heal later? What kind of sadistic assholes are we dealing with?"

Wells agreed, "Why would they save his life just to string him up as live bait?"

"Maybe whatever they like to catch they like it to still be breathing." Bellamy said in his matter-of-factly voice, which grated on my nerves at that moment.

Murphy and Finn had paused at the base of the tree, right below Jasper. Finn swiveled toward us with a note in his voice, "Maybe what they're trying to catch is us."

My eyelids fluttered closed at those words, and I almost swayed on my feet. We did not know what these grounders were capable of, but they obviously knew their way around these forests, and they had been here far longer than we have, which gave them more advantageous gains. There was no other away to put it but we were far outclassed, even if we weren't for sure of it yet.

After the dizziness hit me in the head like a whirlwind, I forced myself to sit on the ground. I saw Clarke give me a look like _'what-the-hell-stand-up-this-is-serious_ face, but I was just way too exhausted. I was so useless, I probably should not have come if I knew this would be the outcome of my recent sleeping habits.

So I forced myself to inspect Murphy and Finn as they cut into the binds that would free Jasper from his position. My eyes fully snapped open, though, when a bush near the group on the ground rustled dangerously. "Oh hell," I froze when I glanced over and saw glowing amber eyes, the animal's malicious leer aimed right at us.

"The hell was that?" Murphy questioned, pausing in cutting.

Bellamy was looking at me as I scrambled to my feet. "Grounders?" He knew I had seen it.

The animal circled the treeline it had between us, and I stopped breathing. It was graceful, the color of the night sky, its orange-colored eyes aflame with the hunt. I was the closest, and it ran right for me. I'd been having a lot of moments where I was too shocked or surprised to do anything, and not to mention that I would have been too sluggish and slow to jump out of the way.

Just as I heard Clarke yell, "Bellamy, gun!" I was hit with what felt like a concrete wall running straight into me, knocking me flat on my back into the tall weeds that disclosed my vision of the rest of the group. My scream of agony was noticeable though, when the animal's left paw dug straight into my shoulder, its claws sinking their way in as far as they managed.

Fortunately, adrenaline saved me. Despite my tiredness and weary movements, fear overpowered my strength. I had to brace my forearms on the thing's neck to keep its teeth from snapping into my face. "Get it off!" I roared with a hoarse voice, just as three shots of a gun rang through the air, like an object breaking through a sheet of glass in my ears. The beast lowered its weight on me, knocking the oxygen from my lungs as I shoved the thing off of my body.

"Fuck," I hissed. Heat radiated from my shoulder, and my arm felt as if it weighed a ton. The lacerations were distinguishable on my tattoo, and it was highly obvious that my shoulder and collarbone felt as if it was on fire by my twisted expression.

"Oh my god, Marcy!" Clarke dropped down next to me on her knees, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Are you okay? Are you hurt –"She saw my shoulder and breathed in sharply. "Okay. Okay, this isn't so bad."

I gave her a chuckle. "Are you convincing me or yourself? Because, if so, you suck."

"You're going to be fine," she said earnestly, assisting me in standing up to my feet. I wobbled over for a moment, but a hand steadied my other shoulder in a firm grip. I glimpsed over at Bellamy, and was surprised to see genuine worry flashing in his expression. Clarke ripped a bottom ring of my tank top off without my consent, the skin of my stomach felt blissful as it was exposed to the drifting air. I bit my tongue as she tied the fabric tightly around my shoulder, mostly to keep from crying out.

"Oh, your gentle hands sure help me feel fine," I cleared my throat, rasping. "After this, you owe me your first unborn child."

Clarke almost burst into laughter, holding her mouth at my random, shrewd comment about her foreseeable children. "Marcy! That's not funny! Goodness, where is your pain tolerance?" She was still smiling as she departed to assist Wells and Finn to carry Jasper, checking his vitals that she could help with.

I breathed in the fresh air, but only smelled the hissing breath of the animal, my blood, and the potent smell of tearing grass. I almost gagged.

Damn it, I need to sleep.

* * *

That very night, I perched myself in front of the bonfire. I hadn't been treated for my injury just yet, allowing Clarke to work with Jasper since he was by far in worse shape than I was in. Instead, I enjoyed the aroma of cooking meat, and observed as other prisoners had their bracelets removed.

'_If they come down here, Marcel, your fate will be absolute as the one you held at the Ark. Don't go on about second chances and wiped slates, that's shit and you know it.'_

Drawing my legs close, with my back against a fallen tree, I sucked in steady breaths. Dammit, he was right. I couldn't – I didn't want fear to take over my actions, but I just couldn't. Clarke would shout at me for agreeing, but she only spent a year in solitary, I spent . . . too long. God forbid me, I was going to allow hundreds of people to die. Jaha created this, though, he did this to me.

"Hungry?" Turning my head over on my knees, I assessed a sideways view of Bellamy Blake, two spears of the animal in both of his hands. Without awaiting for an answer, he dropped down to the ground adjacent to me, stretching his legs out with a silent groan. "No more hiking for me," he said.

I let out a small laugh, stretching my hand left hand around to grasp the stick with the slab of freshly grilled meat. "You didn't haft to knock out that poor kid, y'know," I was referring to the boy that had followed steps of, 'no rules so we can get food with our wristbands, anyway' view from Finn and Clarke. I was certain if I still had my band, as well, I would have done the exact same thing – but aspects of the situation were different.

"There is fear for leadership," Bellamy spoke, finishing a bite, swallowing. "I'm being tested."

"Fear? Did you read a fairytale guidebook for villains as a kid, Bellamy?" I snorted, eyes halfway closed. "You're responsibility and providing is what makes you a leader. Don't fall under rule of dictatorship, or somethin', which just sounds ridiculous."

"Fear will keep Octavia safe." The way he said that caused me to glance over at him, and I wasn't surprised to see him frowning sullenly into the fire prior to us. I secretly admired his will to protect his little sister. She was a bitch, but a very well protected bitch who lived under the floor for so many years, I had to pity her or perhaps been sympathize with the isolation.

"Speaking of fear and keeping Octavia safe," staring at the half-eaten meat, I wasn't famished anymore. "I agree with you. I am going to help you – under one condition."

His eyes went to slits, and the smile he had was as sly as a fox. "What?"

"Never hesitate to save someone innocent."


	3. Earth Kills

**A/N: First author's note, and I'm positive you guys hate these, more than likely. I just wanted to thank certain users for reviews, and even answer some unintentional questions that weren't really questions, but I'm going reassure some readers. **

**Thank you, Guest, FizzWizz2011, Lindy, Minstorai, and Dandelion88 for reviewing my story! Hearing positive feedback is like delivering to me a lollypop from Willy Wonka himself – thank you! I also thank all of the follows and favorites to this fanfic, and I hope I manage to keep all of you on your toes, and interested in Marcel Quinn – she's one helluva OC character.**

**The buildup between Marcel/Bellamy will be slow. I apologize if you wanted me to drop right on in with it, but I want this to play out as it would if I was really adding in a character, so it will be gradually maddening, but I won't leave you guys desperate.**

**So thanks again! Keep reading.**

* * *

"_No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another."_

_Charles Dickens_

**The Game with no Rules** – _Earth Kills_

So, ironically, the time that I desperately needed sleep, it seemed that Jasper desperately needed a gag to muffle his pained moans. I was not mad at the boy, maybe frustrated, because he just picked a very bad time to be wounded, albeit the time scale on that was not exactly his fault.

I stayed outside the drop ship, dozing in and out of a restless sleep. I knew that it was fruitless, each time I awoke the embers of the bonfire were still blazing red and the fire was still cracking on. Eventually, I gave up on slumber all together, and began fooling around with the wristbands that had been discarded carelessly to the ground.

The metal was upgrade material, the needles inside pinpointing locations amongst our wrists that would distinguish our vital information to the Ark consistently. Scanning the object, flipping it over, scrutinizing it with a watchful gaze, I knew there was no possible way to open it up without destroying the thin wires inside. The musing made me smile sadly, because I knew how hard Monty was working to try and locate a communication source with the Ark.

Dropping the band somewhere beside me, I felt someone touch my shoulder. It was odd how I knew the touch of someone's hand against me, but I guess it was just how much their hand weighed, or how smooth their skin was. Clarke's fingers were constantly cold, as if they did not receive blood flow like a normal functioning human, and her grasp was soft and gentle, slim fingers only barely brushing against my uninjured shoulder. "Hey," albeit her voice was grave, from spending hours watching and cleaning Jasper's wound, she managed to muster up a smile just for my benefit.

"Hey," I replied, trying to ignore the fact that my left foot had fallen asleep, the tingle increasingly becoming irritating. "How is he?"

She released a whispery sigh, dropping down beside me, her back flat against the tree stump and her shoulder pressed against mine. "Not good. At all."

"I guess it takes time to heal," I attempted to encourage her efforts, but Clarke only seemed more crestfallen by my words. "Where's Finn?" I asked, knowing that she might have brightened at the mention of the boy. It was obvious of their infatuation with each other, and I wondered if Clarke realized she also had a certain Chancellor's son trailing after her like a lost puppy as well. Knowing her only a little, she probably was oblivious to the fact.

My correction was proven as her blue eyes brightened almost simultaneously. "Who knows," she shrugged. "Probably out in the woods somewhere."

"Um, is it just me, or did we or did we not just get attacked by grounders?" I tsked underneath my breath. "Was that spacewalk not daring enough for him or something?"

Clarke laughed quietly, but it was a fleeting chime in the smoke-induced air. She pushed herself to the arches of her feet and rose gracefully, her sullen expression swiftly causing my faked good mood to perish almost instantly. "I think it's time that I check your shoulder."

"It's not even –"

"I really don't feel like arguing." Clarke's weary eyes pleaded with me. "Just get up to where Monty and Jasper are, I don't think you'll need stitches or anything. Just cleaned so it doesn't get infected or worse."

"Alright, fine." I steadily hauled myself upward, yawning lightly as I did so. "But it's only because I like you."

"I don't expect any less," she commented after a brief moment of silence. Her tone betrayed amusement as we parted ways.

I reached the drop ship in a short amount of time, but it took me quite a few of stomped hands and vivid curses to maneuver myself around the tangle of limbs lying on the floor of the shuttle. I made growls of, "Get over it," and "stop being a little bitch," to the people complaining loudly about Jasper's groans and screams of agony. If you can't handle the sounds, then fucking get your ass of the ship – I was certain that I told about a dozen prisoners that before I reached the ladder that ascended to the second layer of the shuttle.

Monty was perched crisscrossed on the floor, a battery-powered lantern prior to him, as well as one across the room beside Jasper's lolling head. He had a small screw in his hand, a bracelet lying limp between his fingers. He spared me a short glance, nodding respectfully, before basking in the silence and concentrating on his job.

I scampered up the rest of the way, taking a seat on Jasper's left, my back against the edging of the octagonal room. Legs stretched out, head falling back against the metal, the darkness surrounded me. I abruptly felt exhausted sweep in and steal my vision, for a brief second, before I jerked awake and blinked hard.

"Rest." Monty spoke, his voice patient. "You've been moving around a lot. Clarke will be back later, just get . . ."

I did not even hear the rest of his sentence, the world drowned into one gigantic mass of wordless bliss.

* * *

"Oh, goddamnit, Clarke!" My whole body jerked into a startling awake position as the blonde tightened the material around my shoulder and back. I bit my tongue harshly, but not on purpose, and cursed even more profanity through the musky blood-scented air of the drop ship. "Ow, what the –"

"Stop complaining," Clarke examined her handiwork. "I liked it better when you were asleep."

I made a bemused face. "Funny. We're all laughing – and why in the hell am I shirtless?" I glimpsed down at my black bra, and the bruises from the fall yesterday morning littering my stomach, waist, and back. "Trying to cop a feel on me, Griffin? I had my suspicions."

"Shut up, Marcy. Do you talk this much when you're half-naked?" Octavia's naturally soprano high voice cut through my nerves like a steak knife through butter. She was balanced over Jasper with his head in her lap, quietly attempting to sooth him despite her actions being futile.

"I don't know – I haven't practiced with half of the boys around camp. I should probably find someone to give me advice, pants or shirt first?"

Octavia cracked a smile my way, and the tenseness was lifted. "I think, that if you didn't have such a bitchy attitude, we could be close friends."

"Ironic, my reasoning is the same as yours. But hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's dealing with a couple in love." Clarke tossed me a shirt from near the opening of the pod, snickering to herself as it smacked me in the face. "Really, Marcy? How do you make everyone end up liking you? I'm pretty sure I suspect even Bellamy likes you."

"Call it my charming personality or feisty characteristics, I'm just a likable person." Marcel fluttered her green eyes at Clarke, winking as she threw the clothing over her head. It was a long-sleeved gray shirt, an extra someone had tossed around, probably. It was a little big and stretchy, but I couldn't complain. "And Bellamy is the opposite of liking me, in fact, I completed my goal of obtaining his gifted loathing. Thank you very much, I'll receive my letter of recommendation later."

Hopping to my feet, I closed my eyes and savored the injury on my shoulder. It was humming with an ache, but Clarke had made it feel world's better. I seriously owe her my whole next week's rations. I practically jumped down the latter, hearing the two girls and Monty (who had been retreated to his corner) snickering at my words, almost knocking Finn over in my haste. "Oh, Finn!" I grasped his shoulders to keep from falling over, our same height leveling me into a poised stance.

"Energy much, sweetheart?" He asked, curiously raking his eyes over my face. "Where'd you get it?" His smile was wide and kind. "Can you spare some?"

"There's a whole bundle up there starting with C and ending with an E." I smiled as a pink blush graced his cheeks, turning his skin a rosy shade. "I didn't wear her out too bad, but I'm sure you could take my performance to the next level." I scuffed him on the head, his dark brown locks raking down my hand. "Kidding, I'm joking, Finny. Don't faint."

"You're a jerk," Finn chuckled, his hands already grabbing the bars to tug himself up the ladder. I strolled toward the opening of the drop ship, halting in my step when Finn's voice called out. I turned back, lips parted in question. "You're a cool person, Marcel, don't be a stranger."

I figured it was his way of telling me that if I needed anything, any help, that he would gladly offer his free time. It warmed my heart, and I smiled sincerely. I saw what Clarke saw in Finn, his brown eyes were considerate. It was a quality that you just did not find in people anymore, especially in our current predicament on Earth. "'Course, Finn. Go sweep her off her feet," I said, allowing him to hear the care and gratefulness in my voice.

He shook his head with leisure, disappearing into the pod.

As I stepped outside, the first thing that flashed in my vision were another pair of brown eyes. They were lighter than Finn's, like chestnut. And they were not considerate, but cunning and roguish, a gleam that captivated his audience for his own bidding. I was not deterred by Bellamy Blake's presence, though, and swiftly stepped to the side to avoid any confrontation that meant us being close even remotely. I did not lie when I told him I would have a part in his scheme to not allow the Ark to come down, but that did not make us friends – or whatever the hell it was that we were.

"Bella," I gave him my best devious grin. "You slept well, I hope?"

"With all of that moaning and groaning, kind of difficult. Sure you're not doing anything else up there, Marcy?" Bellamy's smirk did not reach his eyes, and when he said it was difficult for sleep, he was telling the truth. The hollowness underneath his eyelids were evident, at least I wasn't the only one near suffering from sleep deprivation.

"Wow, that's low down. We were actually attending a tea party, you know how wild those things can get."

His lip twitched. "Me, Atom, and a group are going hunting. Wanna join?"

The offer weighed in my head, the pros and cons clicking into place into two single file lines. The pros were far outnumbered by the cons, but when I glanced around Blake's shoulder, at the other prisoners who had celebrated with joyous cheers and contented smiles for their meal last night – I knew that I wanted for them to experience that once more.

It was not just me anymore, there were other people that I needed to provide for, leader or not. "I'll go." The answer was plain and simple, no extra innuendos or sarcasm. That's generally how commonly how Bellamy and my conversations went. We'd bash each other with sardonic quips, fall into a death glare match, then more sarcasm, and then we'd be on neutral terms with brief, curt responses. It was . . . a fast-building process for suspense.

"Good. We're leaving soon." He simultaneously whirled on his heel and marched off, knowing that I would haft to swiftly follow after him to keep up with his stride. I contemplated yellowing to Clarke and the others of my departure, but decided to let news flow through gossip.

The knife in my pocket burned against the top of my thigh as I quickly matched his walk. Our silence was deafening, but it wasn't uncomfortable, surprisingly. As we walked, my mind drifted to Octavia. It was strange, and I almost felt hurt that I had never met her after all of those years. I had met Bellamy's mother plenty of times, and now that I think on it, they had hid her as a secret from me to – and even then, I had been Bellamy's most trustworthy friend.

Octavia had been through so much, even if she was ignorant of it even now, later in life, it would fully hit her how much she had endured. She was strong, but she contained a reckless bravery that did not yet catch up to her caliber of mentality. I could only imagine how well of a mother she would be in the far future.

As we entered a canopy/tent made up of one of the parachutes, I was piqued that the crouching form of Murphy waited there. We exchanged not-so-friendly glares, and Bellamy only seemed entertained by the actions. I rubbed at the bridge of my nose as the two began conversing about weapons and anything that could be useful in the hunt.

As if I wasn't just thinking about the all-mighty sister her self, she burst into the tent without warning, almost knocking me over in the process. "What did you do to Atom?" She demanded to Bellamy, her jaw ticking with anger. With the flames of furiousness burning in her leer, I could only connect her behavior from Bellamy. They were much more hot-headed and alike then people gave them credit for.

I frowned at the mention of 'Atom' – he wasn't a friendly face, but he wasn't an enemy neither. He was one of Bellamy's henchmen, which generally put him near the 'threatening' side of things in a situation. I didn't know what Octavia had disclosed with Atom, but I could only think of romantic aspects. Considering he was handsome, it would make clear sense.

Bellamy cocked his head to Murphy, his expression immediately causing Murphy to exit the tent, his hand around my arm causing me to do so as well. As the tarp drifted closed behind us, I ripped my arm from his clutches. "Don't touch me, asshole," I thought of spitting on his boots, but Murphy looked like a guy that wouldn't mind hitting a girl, and my good shoulder was currently injured.

Murphy's expression was cocky. "You think you're somethin' special around here, don't you? Because you got some little past stories with Bellamy in there, huh?"

I sneered. "How'd you know that?"

"I'm not stupid, Quinn."

"Could have fooled me."

Just as Murphy looked as if he was ready to launch blazing fist and glory down upon me, a horrible scream filled with pain was released through the air. Octavia burst through the canopy moments before I took off sprinting in the direction of the horrid screech. I wasn't Jasper's friend per say, but damn, he was still one of the one hundred that was sent down.

Wells, Monty, and Finn were pinning Jasper down, Clarke feverishly and desperately trying to cut away the infected flesh of his injury.

"Stop, you're killing him!" Octavia was directly behind me, bending around Clarke while frantically searching for reassurance in Jasper's pained expression.

"She's trying to save his life," Finn interjected, holding most of Jasper's left side down against the dark gray metal.

"She can't."

Wells released a sigh as if he knew where all of this was going to lead. Standing to his full height, which almost rivalled Bellamy's, his expression clearly not one to reckon with. "Back off," he told the self-proclaimed leader of the prisoners.

Clarke put pressure on the wound, cleaning it to the best of her ability. I could see the deep concern weighing on her. "We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die."

"He's a goner. If you can't see that you're deluded. He's making people crazy."

"That's not your call to make, Blake," I argued against his claim. My attention swerved to Jasper quickly, and then I locked eyes with Clarke. "But let's face facts, he is making a lot of loud noises. And there are other people here, the last thing they need to be is –"

"Scared?" Clarke looked at me as if I was the only person in the room, but not in a good way, as if she was seeing the uglier side of me second past the second. I almost wished I could take back ever speaking up – I didn't mean to offend her judgment on saving Jasper. "I'm sorry if Jasper is an inconvenience to both of you, but this isn't the Ark. Down here every life matters." Her eyes burned into mine. "They don't need to be scared. We're all here, and we're going to protect each other."

Anguish bubbled up in my stomach at her harsh words, which somehow felt like a slap to a face at each syllable she drew out angrily. I was three years older than her and somehow she had me feeling like a scolded child, but it was deeper than that, far deeper. I wasn't sure if it was because she thought I defended Blake's opinion, or if she was just frustrated.

"Excuse me," I murmured, sliding past Bellamy and down the ladder as quick as possible. I knew I shouldn't have been so worked up over silly words, but I was. Perhaps it was because she had punctuated the fact that it was like I didn't care or matter for life itself for the others. That, now, was my number one priority – it had been from the very beginning.

Not even two minutes later, Bellamy descended. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched, jaw ticking, he was the poster boy for irritating vexation. "I just wanted him to be moved . . . to a safer and quieter location."

He snorted. "Yeah, that little detail didn't reach them. Our princess is quick to defend the lost causes." Bellamy walked away, annoyance still radiating from his aura in waves. He called back, "You coming or what?"

I didn't indicate that I heard or acknowledged the fact that every female in a ten foot radius of hearing him sent me ferocious glares. I rolled my eyes when I realized he had done that for that sole purpose. Fucking jackass. Rolling up the sleeved of my sweatshirt, I brandished the knife in my pocket and rolled it over in my hands. The blade had been a piece of shrapnel that had broken off from the drop ship when we had landed, and the handle was just a slim bar that had connected to the blade by wiring so it was anchored firmly.

It was a good, makeshift knife – it would be my weapon for the hunt. I wouldn't work well with spears of anything else, probably – not with my shoulder still sore as it was.

I observed Bellamy's back as he retreated, watching with calculating eyes as the muscles in his back moved as he walked, his shoulders blades prominent through the thin shirt. I almost snorted. Such a jackass – he was hanging me as live bait in front of every starving shark that happened to be the whole female population of the prisoners.

"Yeah, wait up!"

Guess the best thing to do is to get the hell out of dodge.

* * *

The forests were a sanctuary to calm ones high-strung nerves. I calmly walked behind Atom, his even breaths, which inhaled and exhaled evenly, almost soothing to my pounding headache. It helped obscure my troubles and disputes behind me, allowing them to emerge themselves into my shadow until night approached, then I knew I would haft to face them when I reached back to camp.

The only prisoners I knew that were accompanying us were Atom and Bellamy, the other three were complete strangers and I frequently kept my peer in their direction ahead of us, my guard shooting up in alarming rates. It was not just them, though, Atom and Bellamy were just as a danger, they just – held familiarity, and if I explained that to someone they would have told me that made no sense whatsoever.

"_Danger is danger_," is what Ace use to tell me. "_Don't lurk around it_."

Silence was key to hunting. If you can imagine, it wasn't something we did persistently aboard the Ark, but as we trekked further, I knew that it was something that I enjoyed. Perhaps not the killing part so much, but we did what we had to that pushed ourselves into the means of surviving. We needed motivation, albeit you think that painful hunger and dry throats would be enough, for some of the prisoners, it wasn't – hunting gave you motivation, believe it or not.

A rustle of the leaves ahead of me drew my sharp attention, and my eyes widened at only the second beast that I was to come across. It was round with short legs, and I recognized as it being related to pigs – a hog? It did not have tusks, so instead of a boar, it was to be a hog. Its coat was a murky black with brown patches near its hind and snout. It made a snorting sound, which at least meant it couldn't have been deranged with radiation, right?

I instinctively crouched to the ground, albeit I was not sure on how would that help anything. Bellamy was behind me, his weapon gripped firmly in his hand. He seemed to take my action with contentment, holding a hand out for the rest of the group. "Shh, shh, sh," he hushed. "She's _mine_." He twisted the weapon agilely around his hand, preparing to throw it evenly at the hog.

The best aim would be at its head or hind legs, and I'd take my chances at its legs. If you could injure it there, it would have nowhere to run considering its wound. Bellamy was far from stupid, though, and I knew wherever he threw he would hit the target. He'd had a perfect aim while growing up, that was why he'd considered joining the Guard.

Just as Bellamy prepared himself to throw, a twig snapped directly behind him. He whirled around swiftly, his weapon flying toward the source of the noise. I jumped to my feet, and covered my mouth with both hands as his weapon slammed into the tree right next to a little girl's head.

The hog, now frightened, began scurrying off. The other three prisoners raced to catch the terrorized animal, while I swiftly joined Bellamy to interrogate the newest 'member' of our posse. "Who the hell are you?" He growled out in question.

"Charlotte," she answered uneasily, almost confused.

"I almost killed you," Bellamy tugged his weapon free of the bark, holding it in his left hand. "Why aren't you back at camp?"

"W-Well, with th-that guy who was dying, I just – I couldn't listen anymore." Her eyes fleeted to me, pleading with me to understand her predicament. I knew who Charlotte was by rumors, her parents had been floated, and she regularly screamed awake by nightmares plaguing her mind.

Atom, to my left, reared back his shoulders in defense. "There's grounders out here, it's too dangerous for a little girl." She really could not have been more than thirteen or less. It made me hate the Ark even more, for them sending a fucking child out here, where they had not even known if it was safe or not.

I folded my arms. "He's right. Someone should escort her back." I glanced over at Bellamy, and saw his expression. "And judging by your face, that would be me."

"I'm _not_ _little_," she said, expression begging.

Bellamy remained silent for a full ten second, obviously mulling over a quick decision. And for a split second, if I was not mistaken, his face softened in the slightest. My back went rigid as he spoke. "Okay then," he said. He extended his hand into his pants, pulling out a short-bladed weapon. "But you can't hunt without a weapon."

"No, here," I gingerly took the blue-handled knife from him, giving her my longer blade. If she was going to stay out here with us, mine would offer better protection. "Take mine – for safe keeping." I sent her my best warm smile, but she did not return it – but I truthfully did not expect her to.

Bellamy looked at her. "Ever killing something before?"

She met Atom and my gaze for split second, shaking her head to his question. That softened expression flashed again. "Who knows, maybe you're good at it."

Atom turned on his heel, marching toward the direction the other group had ran off to. I followed, but I allowed Charlotte to walk ahead of me, which left me in the very rear – but it was happy for that. More silence to delve oneself in. I yawned behind my hand, stifling it against my palm. The other group was not far ahead, and the hog had inevitably gotten away.

Bellamy began scolding them harshly, the hog had been short, and it could not have ran that fast. I began blinking at the sound of birds flying above us, a lot of black birds silhouettes raced above them, as if they were – flying away from something dangerous.

"Blake . . .?" I called out warily as the forest took on a yellow hue, which was not a good sign in my handbook.

He glanced over at me, behind me, and shouted. "Run! Everyone run!"

I looked behind me once to see a gassy fog coming toward me with speed that I was not prepared for. My feet immediately began sprinting through the forest, and thank god for my longer legs, because I was swiftly catching up with the front of the group.

Bellamy panted beside me, our eyes locking as he called back to the rest of the group. "Come on! There are caves this way!" I was not certain on how he knew that, but now was not the time to speculate on his judgment. Charlotte was falling behind, not adjusted in running as fast as we were setting the pace. Bellamy grabbed her arm to drag her forward.

"Atom! Faster!" I shouted behind me, worry evident. I didn't know the boy, but he was an asset of the camp. When I glanced behind me, his foot got lodged between a root and the ground and he crashed into the forest floor, on his side, the fog fixing to spread all over him like a blanket. "_Atom_!"

I considered turning and running to aid him, but when our eyes met, he shook his head breathlessly, waving his arm. "_Go_! Just go!" I would be a liar to say that I did not think twice in continuing to dash to the caves. I didn't, and then, I did not regret it, because I knew that Atom would be fine, he could take care of his own self, and he was more-then capable.

Breathing erratic, I ran with all of my might. The fog was right behind me, threatening to touch the back of my heels as I ambled forward. Recognizing the black rocks on my left, I spun around just in time to clasp Bellamy's hand and for him to wrench me inside with all of his strength. "Oomph!" I grunted as my body smashed into his, but I could not see his face in the darkness of the cave.

I felt his fingers dig into the back of my shirt as he urged me deeper into the cave, our heavy wheezing the only sound echoing around us. "Damn, that was a close call," I mumbled, clearing my throat and coughing. "I think some of that shit embedded in my throat or something."

Up ahead, I smiled when I saw Charlotte sitting on a rock ledge that was not far from the surface of the cave. The space was tight, but it was spacious enough to where we had our own spot to perch of lie down. Late evening had to have been close, and who knows how long this fog would be sweeping the area we had been in.

Collapsing near the far corner of the space, I groaned at how sore my calf muscles were. My legs felt like jello, at least now I was aware I should be exercising a lot more than I did before – which was nada on my free time. The rocks of the cave were moisturized into a nice temperature, which prompted me to lean my back against and to sigh with satisfaction.

Bellamy was still standing. "What happened to the others?" He asked me.

"Honestly? Those other three idiots went in the opposite direction you told them to go, Atom, he –"I grimaced, my eyes closing with exhaustion. "He fell. I was – well, I thought about – he told me to go. He was picking himself up, I'm sure he is fine." I reopened my eyes, dark green irises meeting brown. We both knew what was Atom's fate, but did not indulge in answering when technically a child was present – there was no sense in scaring her further then she was already terrified.

But when I glimpsed over at Charlotte, on the outside, she held a calm façade. And she was good, better than Bellamy would ever be. While he was good at replacing his sadness or anger by sarcasm (as I did as well) she perfectly masked all other emotions. What did the Ark do to this child?

"You should get some sleep," Bellamy told Charlotte, settling himself on the ground as well. He took off his jacket, giving it to the girl. "Here. We might be here awhile."

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, sinking down against the ledge with the jacket draped over her form. I watched her as her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing evened, and slumber relaxed her childlike features. It had only in a span of five minutes, she must have been drained of any energy left from those nightmares.

"Who sends a child to die?" Bellamy's question was filled with so much hate and animosity I sunk deeper against the caves wall. He was faced away from me, one leg up with the other stretched out absentmindedly, his forearm used as a softening cushion against the floor.

Relieved that I did not see his current expression, I answered, "People who our pressing for answers."

"That's an excuse and you know it," he snapped roughly.

"What's done is done. She's a strong kid, maybe they saw that." I grunted as I shifted my weight against the floor, straining to get into a more pain-relieving position. The soreness of my shoulder had hit me with full force when Bellamy had yanked me inside the cave, and any effort I put into moving proved that ache very aggrieved.

"Stop defending them."

"I'm not, Bellamy. I'm seeing the positive side of things. Maybe you should too." My hiss sliced through the taut silence, and I couldn't help but let the indignation I had been feeling seep into my voice. I finally curled up on my good side, tucking my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

The quietude was resonant in my ears, but I relished in it.

Blackness swept my vision elsewhere.

* * *

Petrified cries jolted me awake and into a reality from the loud noise echoing off the cave walls. The soles of my boots scraped against rock as I pushed myself into a dazed sitting position, watching as Bellamy sat up as well. She was trying to push herself away as he grabbed her knees to settle her. "Charlotte, wake up," he gave her a gentle shake.

Her eyes, now fully open, were glazed by tears. "I'm sorry," she said lowly, like a scared animal.

He watched her with curiosity. "Does that happen often?"

She inhaled and exhaled loudly, afraid to give an answer.

"What are you scared of?" When she didn't answer, he licked his lips and shook his head, solemnly. "You know what, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what you do about it."

Confusion laced her voice, "But – I'm asleep."

"Fear is a fear. Slay your demons when you're awake, they won't be there to get you when you're asleep."

"Fear does not exist unless you allow it to," I smiled as her eyes darted anxiously to me. "It's hard but you look like you could do it, Charlotte."

"Yeah, but – how?"

"You can't afford to be weak, down here – weakness is death, _fear_, is death." Bellamy watched her closely, finding hints of hesitation in her eyes. He turned towards me and held out his hand. "Let me see my knife," he asked.

I didn't pause to dig into my pocket and hand over the blue-handled blade, watching as he glanced at Charlotte. "Can I have that blade Marcy let you borrow?" She gave it to him without protest, and he handed over the blue-handle. "Here's your own first knife. Now," he held it for her, "when you feel afraid, you hold tight to that knife and you say screw you, I'm not afraid."

She gingerly accepted the knife, staring down at with a mix of sadness and other emotions. "Screw you," she repeated, "I'm not afraid." Charlotte looked up for his approval, but Bellamy sent her a look of _come-on-you-can-do-better-then-that_. She gripped the handle tighter. "Screw _you_, I'm not afraid."

Bellamy patter her knee once, half smiling. "Slay your demons kid, then you'll be able to sleep."

Knowing that I wouldn't be able to drift back off to sleep, I gathered my feet under me and hoisted myself up. "I'm gonna go take a look around," I said, brushing the back of my pants off. I took a few steps forward and blinked when a hand grasped my wrist. Without speaking, Bellamy slipped my knife into my hand. "Thanks," I whispered.

I wasn't an idiot, I wasn't going anywhere near to the front of the cave until we were sure the fog had passed over us. Instead, I found some more tunnels that lead into alternating directions. I was wide-awake now, and I knew I could remember and trace my steps back – so I decided why the hell not?

I kept my hands balanced on each side of the cave walls as I carefully walked, widening my eyes in fascination as the rocks turned from jagged and rough, to smooth and silk underneath my fingertips. This was the first time I'd ever been in a cave like this before, and I wondered how Bellamy had come across this in the first place.

Squinting my eyes, I furrowed my eyebrows as I noticed a blue hue in a few walking steps away. I figured I would take my chances if it just-so-happened to acidic blue fog as well (highly doubtful of that assumption), so I took cautious steps, my boots crunching on loose rocks.

My mouth dropped open.

It was a pool of water, except – it wasn't just water. The water was a glowing blue, clear as glass, and was just the most mystical thing I had ever seen in my twenty years of living. Reaching forward, I stopped just in time of not quiet touching the liquid. What if it was poisonous, or had radiation? Well, since the fog had not reached this far, the radiation should have been the same.

My hand disappeared into the refreshing substance, and I gasped as its chill encompassed my entire hand. My God, it was the best thing I had ever felt.

Without thinking twice, I began stripping off my clothes. My pants, underwear, bra, and shirt were all thrown behind me. I blandly undid bandage that was tied underneath my arm, taking heedful movements to peel it off without causing more damage. Just a few minutes, especially since I did not know how deep it was, and I couldn't swim. I'd haft to hold myself up and my arm could not take that strain just quiet yet.

Just as I was fixing to lower myself down, a woman stared back at me. I blinked at my reflection with a combination of self-loathing and nostalgia. My black waves were resting all the way to my waist, framing a pale and full face. My lips weren't thin nor overly large, my nose small but too narrow for me.

I swallowed, submerging myself into the water. My head disappeared for only a few seconds, silence tranquil underneath the surface. I pulled myself back up, breathing a sigh of consolation. I knew I couldn't stay in long, because my legs would begin cramping from not adjusting to the gravity the water provided. Perhaps if I had been an active engineer on the Ark before being shipped down here, but I hadn't spacewalked in years – the water was like reminiscence kicking me in the stomach.

Dragging myself out, I quickly dressed. I sat on the ledge of the pool and wrung out my hair, running my fingers through the messy locks. Despite how much I had pushed it aside, when I returned to camp, I would apologize to Clarke for affronting her. I felt like she was one of few here that actually knew me, actually, she was probably the only one that I'd never been on bad terms with.

No need to start now.

* * *

Sunlight blinded my vision from being encased in the darkness of the caves. I shaded my eyes with my hand as we materialized in the woods, glancing around to locate someone familiar besides trees, overgrowth, and prehistoric ferns. I grabbed Charlotte's shoulder from behind me, offering her a gentle squeeze as Sam said, "it's all clear. Anyone out here? Jones!"

I rested my hands on my hips, searching. "Maybe they went back to –"

"We're here!" Someone shouted out.

Bellamy lead the way around the bend of the caves, back toward to where the fog had previous chased us. The trio of prisoners were unharmed for the most part, just shaken up. "Lost you in the stew, where'd you go?"

"Went into a cave down there," Jones replied. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know." Bellamy said earnestly. "Where's Atom?"

When Jones didn't respond, and Bellamy eyes dimmed, my heart stopped. I exhaled faintly, throwing my head back to the top of the trees. "_Shit_," I cursed, "I should have fucking went back for him." The other female of the group sent me a glare like I shouldn't be swearing in front of a child.

"What good would that had done? You getting lost in it as well?" Bellamy answered. He turned his attention to the whole group. "Let's split up, search for him, he's gotta be somewhere around here."

I set off into a random direction, at that moment, just wanting to be alone. I was pretty sure that I could have sprinted back, pulled him up, and ran to the caves with just mild injuries (it depends on what the fog does to you when it makes contact with your skin). Stupid – so _stupid_, why hadn't I done that?

Bashing myself mentally with insults and guilt, I didn't realize someone was following me until I whirled around and slugged Finn straight into the mouth. He groaned and fell backward, which alerted the attention of his other two companions nearby. "Finn? What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Me?" He said in an octave or two higher from my punch. "What about you? Do you commonly turn and punch the person walking behind you?"

I embraced my inner-sarcasm. "Only every other day."

"Finn!" Clarke rushed in to save the day, but when she saw me, she almost stopped so fast she skidded on the leaves of the forest floor. "Marcel? What are you doing out here?"

"I can be asking you the very same thing."

She opened her mouth to answer, but a familiar scream penetrated through the air. The air in my lungs was stolen as I heard Charlotte scream, and I quickly rushed to the source, not caring if the others were behind me or not. I saw Charlotte's back and gripped her shoulders, looking over her stiff form to see Bellamy crouched by Atom's . . . body.

I gasped at the bubbly burns encasing his skin, marring the once smooth flesh he had had. I covered my mouth as Bellamy stood, indecision flickering through his gaze as his met mine from across the ten feet that separated us. I felt the other three prisoners behind me, weapons poised after hearing Charlotte scream.

The girl went to step forward, digging her hand into the pocket in the front of her shirt. I almost reached out to stop her, and place my hand in front of her eyes to shield her from the gruesome sight, but I didn't. Charlotte handed the knife to Bellamy, and I almost smiled by how clumsy she was with it, handing it to him blade-first. "Don't be afraid," she told Bellamy.

"Go back to camp," he ordered the other prisoners, me. They all did without question, but I remained still. He didn't protest my presence. "Charlotte," he told her lowly. "You too."

When she walked past me, I couldn't resist in pulling her into a brief hug. I was not a person to offer comfort, so it was a shock to even me. I brushed some strands of blond hair that had escaped her braid back from her face, caressing her cheek. "I still think you can do it, Charlotte," I whispered to her.

She managed me a weak smile.

I maneuvered myself beside Bellamy, raking Atom's hair back from his forehead. "My God," I rasped. The boy was almost convulsing, like he was ready to succumb to death. I looked into his eyes and saw blindness, his irises a murky blue. Atom began crying as I stroked the side of his face, and I could only imagine how long he had suffered the whole night.

Something dark was in the corner of my peripheral vision, and I glimpsed to my left to see Clarke standing there, her breathing heavy from running. She circled us, kneeling down on his other side, setting her hand down on his stomach as she surveyed the extent of his injuries. "I heard screams," she said.

"Charlotte found him," Bellamy's voice was hoarse. "I sent her back to camp." He shook his head, swallowing hard.

Clarke looked down again, observing Atom with a devastated expression. She glanced at both of us, shaking her head as an indication of him not being able to make this – to pull himself through. I closed my eyes, feeling sorrow for this individual that I did not know well. He was Bellamy's right-hand man, though, so I knew the two had to have some sort of friendship.

"Okay," Clarke whispered reassuringly to Atom. "I'm going to help you. Alright?"

Oh God, I knew exactly what Clarke was going to do. As she began to hum softly and stroke his hair with her left hand, doubt shot through me. I couldn't let her do this, she didn't – Clarke was not meant to take another's life. She wasn't a doctor, her mother was, she – she did not want to live with the guilt of killing someone.

Sighing shakily, just as she reached forward to clasp the knife, I grabbed her hand. She halted in humming, incredulity in her expression as she glimpsed over at me. I cleared my throat, licking my dry lips. "Sometimes, clemency is what makes someone pure." I gave her a small smile. "And compassion. Which you both have." I took the knife from Bellamy, the one Clarke had been reaching to grasp. "You're a good person, Clarke, and since I've done this once before, it won't hurt to do it again."

Tears that had been glazing her eyes, spilled over. "Oh, Mar – y-you don't –"

"I know, I know." I guarded myself quickly. My eyes skimmed to Bellamy's, and his expression was one of despondency, an emotion that you rarely, if ever, saw on him. "It's for the best." Clarke choked for a moment, before she resumed to hum for Atom, an unsteady hand combing through his hair.

I pressed the tip of the blade into his jugular vein, where he would bleed out in under a minute (or at least go unconscious and die painlessly), and watched wordlessly as the knife went in to the hilt. I pulled it out and crimson blood gushed from the puncture.

He died less than fifteen seconds later.

* * *

When we reached camp (Thank God), everyone was ahead of me. The first thing I saw while entering was Octavia practically jogging around the bonfire to confront of her brother. "Octavia," Bellamy's voice was quivering. "Just stay there, please." He stopped her from walking around him, grabbing her arms.

"Why – Bell, _stop_." She broke free and circled around him, reaching Atom, whose face was being covered by a jacket. She kneeled down and uncovered his face, breathing in horror at what laid beneath. "Atom," she said with tears. People around the camp had familiar gasps and cries of their own – those who knew him personally, anyway.

"There's nothing I could do –"

"_Don't_." Octavia held up a hand, tears shining on her face.

At the betrayed, ashamed expression Bellamy could barely contain, I quickly rose forward to take the full blame. "He's right, Octavia. He was – it was too late." She didn't answer me, instead, she almost keeled over on Atom, raising the jacket to cover his face once more. Her blue eyes held sorrow as she looked at me once, before marching off, throwing Bellamy's arm away as he went to hug her.

I didn't stay after that. I went to somewhere where I could rest and no one would come and bother me. So I circled the drop ship and leaned against it from the other side, deciding this was a good bed as any other. I didn't regret my decision on allowing myself to kill Atom instead of Clarke, in fact, I was pretty positive I'd do it again.

"Hey, there you are." Clarke smiled when she saw me, and I blinked at the unshed tears in her eyes. "Oh," she wiped them away. "Those are nothing. I was just – handling something." She dropped down beside me, pulling her legs to her chest. "You pick a pretty good spot." A view of the sky was just beyond the clearing, the inky black sky littered by shining silver stars.

"I want to apologize." I said gradually, swallowing a lump in my throat. "For everything."

"For everything?" Clarke laughed lightly. "Do I need I need to get out a piece of paper and pen for this?"

I smiled. "For a few minutes, maybe."

"Did you know about my mom turning in my dad?"

My smile vanished.

Clarke's expression did not hold contempt as I thought it would, she was still smiling. "Well," she whispered, looking back up at the night sky. The shining star of the Ark reflected in her azure blue eyes. "It seems we can put that on the paper as well."

I'd never felt so grateful in my entire life.


	4. Murphy's Law

**A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed and favorite and followed! And please, do keep reviewing, as most authors express, good and bad reviews seriously help and rekindle our thirst for writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter, made it extra-long just for you!**

**Thank you! Keep reading!**

* * *

_While seeking revenge, dig two graves – one for yourself."_

_Douglas Horton_

**The Game with no Rules** – _Murphy's Law_

"Wake up," someone nudged my shoulder, rudely disturbing me from my deep sleep. It was, quiet possibly, the best sleep I had had in years, and probably years to come forth. When my eyes fluttered open, instead of Ace's dimpled face grinning in the depths of my dream, I saw a blade of hunter green grass tickling my nose.

Groaning audibly, I turned over on my back, arching my back at the taunt muscles that were knotted in my shoulders and lower-back. The first thing I fully visualized was a tall form standing over me, Finn's dark shoulder-length hair framing his face as he peered down at me. "Hell," I groaned, dearly wishing to fall back asleep. "What do you want?"

"You might wanna come see this," Finn offered me a hand as I wearily sat up. I took it, allowing him to easily stand me to my feet without much of a hassle. "I didn't – um, Clarke's still asleep. I don't think she needs – she doesn't need to know about this yet."

I rubbed at my eyes, raking a hand through my wavy hair. "Okay, okay – um," I yawned, "what is it?"

"Wells is dead."

I paused mid-step, almost causing my feet to clumsily trip over myself. I swiveled my head, my gaze imploring his stern features, only to distinguish sorrow in his frown. "Oh my," I whispered, overwhelmed. I had not known Wells that well, but he had been one of those familiar faces – and a good guy, Wells had had morals, codes to live by from his father, and it had honestly made him a good guy. Wells had been the opposite of his father. "So you want me to help you bury a body?"

Finn smiled tightly, the shovel they had used for the burials clutched in his right hand. "I would have asked Bellamy, but I know Wells means nothing to him, to him he was just the Chancellor's son."

Out of courtesy, Finn handed me the shovel to use, while he would use his hands. We tugged open the door to the meager wall around camp, cracking it just enough so we could slip through. When I got a full visual of Well's corpse, I had to cover my mouth just to contain myself. Seeing two dead bodies in under twenty-four hours was just ridiculously disbelieving, I was just fortunate I had neither known nor actually befriended them.

"Who did this?" I asked Finn, clearing my throat as I pressed the heel of my boot into the shovel, sinking it deeper into the moist dirt.

"Grounders, I guess. Must have caught him while he was on guard outside the fence."

"Speaking of outside the fence," I turned toward him, suspicious. "What were you doing out here?"

"Oh, you know, exploring. I actually went to store to get a few things."

"Yeah, humor does not reach me this early in the morning." I chuckled at him despite my statement of the downing mood, turning my focus on creating a grave for Wells. When it was deep enough, I persisted that Finn take the shovel, mainly because I only had about a dozen splinters lodged into my fingers and palms – which hurt like a bitch.

I lithely glided into the gravesite, gesturing for Finn to give me half of the dead weight of Wells. I knew the boy would probably heavy as anything, but I only had to uphold his weight for a few short seconds until his body was fully inside. When in reach, I grabbed Wells underneath his shoulders and heaved with a grunt, dragging him inside with a straining effort.

"Check his pockets for anything we can use," I knew Finn was meaning well, but his face twisted in shame at his own words. Without looking up, I began searching through the boy's jacket and pants, locating a knife and his old wristband. I shoved the knife into my waistband, throwing the metal band up to Finn.

I decided to double-check him, just to be certain. I knew Wells would have done the same thing if it had been one of us, so I did not feel guilty taking some unimportant items from his dead body. My hands circled his waist, and I widened my eyes at the feel of something metal placed on the small of his back. Coiling my fingers around the metal handle, my mouth broadened open as the gun weighed in my hand.

Something clicked into my head.

"Find anything else?" Finn called from above, shading his hand so he could get a clear view from where he was. Fortunately for me, it was darkened in the hole, so I hastily jostled the pistol into my boot, not allowing myself to feel guilty for something that could benefit the camp in the future.

I cocked him a small smile, shaking my head. "Nah. Just a knife and that wristband. Lend a lady a hand, Finny?" I extended my arm up, our hands curling tightly in a vice-like grip as he assisted in lifting me out of the grave. I was surprised, I knew I was no small girl that some guy could sweep into his arms. I was five-foot-ten, for God's sake, it took some strength to lift me anywhere.

I scuffed him in the head as my feet made contact with the ground. For old time's sake, and mostly because I evaluated his expression to see if he had seen me practically pocket the gun from inside the grave. But he only seemed annoyed at me for messing up his hair, so I quickly sent him a wide grin.

As the two of us treaded back inside the camp, I explained to Finn that I would be the one to give Bellamy the news, and watched as he walked off. Bellamy had his own little tent across the camp, and I promptly sauntered over in his direction. I actually thought about knocking, but the action would have been completely weird – so I just tugged back the tent opening.

The two females were fast asleep, both curled up on each side of the twenty-one year-old man. I rolled my eyes at the soap opera scene, widening the gap of the tent opening, grinning as light shone directly on Bellamy's face. "Wakey, wakey, you little sleepy heads," I announced, mockingly cheerful.

When Bellamy cracked open an eye and saw I, hip-cocked out and a devious smirk planted on my lips, he frowned. He didn't say anything but sit up, practically having to push the girls off of him to stand to his bare feet. I noticed his bare chest for only less than a second, averting my eyes to his face and still grinning. "Is this how you spend your nights? Having more fun than me it looks like."

Tugging on his shirt, Bellamy finally allowed anger to replace his tired expression. "Oh shut the hell up, Marcy. Do you have a reason for coming and waking me up?"

"You're not the only one who got woken up this morning." I sighed, peering at him as he pulled on his shoes. "Wells is dead."

His head shot up, surprised. "Seriously?"

"As serious as I'll ever be." I prodded at the ground with the tip of my shoe, contemplating whether or not to mention the gun to Bellamy. But when it came down to the facts of our 'friendship' (more like alliance), I still didn't trust him. Biting my lip, I decided to go with my instinct on this one and keep my mouth shut. If I could even recreate the bullets, make my own molding for the lead, it would take a large amount of time and effort – I'd mention it later.

"Where and how?"

"Outside the fence. Incision to the neck, looks like, by the grounders?"

"Damn." Bellamy grabbed his jacket and slung it on. "We need to finish the fucking barrier." I was shocked that he actually sounded enraged by the death of Wells, but I could mistook it as the safety of himself instead – you really never know with Bellamy.

As the two of us walked outside, the prisoners were all just now rising from their sleep, all groggy, stumbling around, and rubbing their eyes to cease the aftermath of slumber. The day was bright and the temperature felt warm and perfect while under the shade of the lengthy, thick trees that the woods provided. As Bellamy began barking orders to Murphy about fixing the fence and other aspects I didn't feel like hearing about, I hurriedly set off to complete my day's objective.

Lead is a heavy mineral, and that is exactly why the Ark is constructed mostly from that. Lead prevents radiation and gamma rays, or reflects them if you will. I was lucky to have the drop ship here, because lead is almost impossible to find in natural environment. Albeit lead is also distinguishable around resistors such as SMD and SMT packages, technology now, they were nonexistent – but the drop ship was a hundred years old. I could probably locate some around the shuttle, but Monty had been literally working on it all night – there was no way to be stealthy around him without him realizing it, he was a smart kid.

Excluding that major detail, I'd haft to pinpoint some aluminum. For a molding to make the bullets –

"_It's kind of heavy," I weighed the gun in my hand, running my fingers over the metal crevices with inquisitiveness. It was the first time my brother had showed me any of the weapons he worked with, and I was by far more curious then I had originally thought. _

_My eyes skimmed across the metal table, which was littered with ship parts, wires, and tools. A twenty-one year-old sat across from me, perched on the edge of his chair like usual. I favored him in more ways than one. We both shared stark black hair, his being short and jutted out in random places (he never combed it), as well as our dark olive green eyes. _

_A characteristic stood out between us, the scar that cut across his right cheek, as well as a part of his nose. It was jagged, but yet smooth, and every time he grinned it crinkled like paper. In honesty, I had always thought it appealed to his features, it made Jace Alexander Quinn far more handsome._

_He was tinkering with one of the oxygen tanks that had failed a field test, popping open a panel with a screwdriver with a satisfied grin. "That, my dear sister, is because that is made up of stainless steel." He didn't look up at me as he kept the screwdriver lodged into a part of the tank, extending his other arm around me to grab a metal object. _

_It was a rectangle, and I as I opened it, it had individual bullet shapes. "That is a molding, for bullets. Aluminum is the easiest, and in my opinion, the best." A door slid open from behind me, and Ace spared a glimpse upward. He chuckled. "Jake would argue with me though, says lead'll give me cancer and all that shit."_

_Jake shrugged off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. "Don't start something you can't finish, kid." _

Aluminum supported the drop ship as an airframe – which I did not know if I could get to, yet. Airframes was the whole fucking construction of the shuttle, it would take forever to break a piece of it off – and we could only pray that it wouldn't cause the whole drop ship to break apart.

"Hey, Marcy!" I pivoted on my heel from scanning the shuttle, to see Clarke marching towards me and the front of the drop ship, her face a mask of revenge and determination. "Come with me. You could probably help with this." Without waiting for my response, I was grabbed by the upper arm and lead onto the opening of the shuttle, where Monty was working inside a panel.

When Clarke voiced her idea, my easygoing mood plummeted into reality. And when Monty took off her bracelet, and it was still operational, I almost grabbed the roots of my hair to yank out excessively. Okay, if Clarke was wanting to get revenge on her mother for killing her father – this was not in any form or fashion the way to do it. We all know Abby loved Clarke to the moon and back – oh shit, I have to tell Bellamy.

I considered just sort of sliding away like a shadow, but Clarke's voice halted me from doing so. "Can you help him?" She asked me, still rubbing at her wrist.

"Um, uh – I, no. I don't really – work good with those. I mean, engineering on the drop ship, like – um –"My stammering was making her narrow her eyes for skeptical reasons, oh God, was it that evident that I was nervous? "Sorry," I said. "It's been a rough morning."

The suspicion melted off her features. "Oh, of course. I think Monty's got it –"

"As long as I can patch it through the drop shoot mainframe." He responded. "I can do it," he turned to us with hope. "We'll talk in here by nightfall."

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. _After agreeing with Bellamy's ridiculous scheme, why had I not cut off any available source of electricity or communications to begin with? I slipped out of the drop ship right before Clarke exited, maneuvering myself easily so I was practically blending in with the other prisoners as they did manual labor to make the camp more shelter then open woods.

I casually leaned myself against the tree behind Bellamy and Murphy, listening in on their conversation. "This section should be finished my tomorrow," Murphy said, the pair of gloves hooked to his belt loop swinging around as he gestured with his hand. I mouthed a silent, "YES," as Murphy was distracted by someone falling behind in working, walking away and shouting to the guy who had kneeled on the ground.

"We have a problem," I told Bellamy, pushing myself into a standing position. "A very big problem."

He kept one eye on Murphy. "And what would that be? Seems like we've been getting a lot of problems here recently."

"Monty think he can get us communicating back with the Ark. It's nothing special, Morse code perhaps, but talking would be impossible." I really did not want to be aimed at with Bellamy's cold rage, so I swiftly threw out, "I can fix it."

"Then why are we talking?" His cool expression revolved on me.

"I can't just waltz in and cut the link, Blake. Then they'd know someone did it – I'd haft to wait, until they actually . . . well, _did_ it."

"Do what you haft to, Marcel." Well, that was just about the most normal, civil conversation that meant discussing hundreds of lives dying ever. It was actually hostile because we weren't being hostile – which made _no_ sense whatsoever. I followed him with my eyesight as he told Murphy to get the guy who had fallen some water, at least he had _some_ compassion for the camp.

"Are you going to get this?" He asked Charlotte – who was tying wire around five logs pushed together to form a teepee, indicating to the log that the guy had been carrying on his shoulder. The twelve year-old reached to do it as he had commanded, but Bellamy grinned and stepped forward. "Hey, I'm just kidding." He easily hoisted the log on his shoulder, casting me a short glance before continuing.

I rubbed at my temples, still viewing the prisoner who had stopped because of fatigue. I recognized him, his name was Connor. I scoffed in disgust as Murphy went up behind Connor, and unzipped his pants, pissing over the boy's jacket. It was rude and disrespectful and not to mention disgusting – I found it funny that he thought he could boss everyone around while he stood and just have orders.

Connor jumped up to his feet and shoved Murphy in the chest, his inky dark eyes narrowing dangerously, "What the hell is wrong with you, Murphy!" He shouted, outraged, but three other guys easily held him back by his arms and shoulders.

"You wanted a water break," he said, innocently, but his smirk held other dark intentions. "Get _back_ to work!" He called to everyone since they had halted since he had obviously made a showcase appearance of himself. I knew who he was, what kind of person he was, the jackass reminded me of Kane.

Murphy was walking back toward Bellamy and his spot where they had previous been discussing when he spotted me, and froze, but then that dark, twisted smirk morphed his mouth. "Well, if it isn't our own little Quinn."

"Well, if it isn't our number one star asshole." I clapped, smiling wickedly. "I'm kind of surprised you took the job from Bellamy, he was providing a supreme role until you decided to go all little defenseless beat-up kid to being a dick." I made a tsk with my tongue, my body movement alert and stiff as he drew closer.

"Well at least I did not go from being the solo con to following Bellamy around like a lost puppy," Murphy spat.

Something in me snapped at his insinuation. I was not going to allow anyone – especially _Murphy_ – to tell me who I was and who I am. That was my job and mine alone, no one else's. Lunging forward, I clasped the collar of his jacket and whirled our positions around, slamming his back into the wooden beam of one of the fences, almost knocking it over from the sudden weight.

"Who do you think you are?" I hissed at him, our eyes inches apart.

Murphy snarled, using his right arm to propel my hand away from fisting his jacket. I lost my balance and hold on him, and his hand struck me directly in the chest, thrusting me backwards and – into a taller, and what felt like a brick wall. Bellamy didn't try to stabilize me with a hand to the shoulder, rather than, he fixated both of us with a cutting glare.

"_What_ is going on?" He questioned.

I was suddenly aware of everyone watching the interaction, and I was acutely remembering the comment Murphy had jeered at me about Bellamy. My eyes went cold and I stepped away from both of them, my jaw clenching. "Nothing," I hissed, scowling at him. With as much dignity as I had left, I stalked away. I didn't even really know why that suggestion (or whatever the hell it was) had bothered me so much, but it did, and I was furious.

I was not some follower of Bellamy's. I _wasn't_.

* * *

My hands were shoved into my pockets, eyes downcast at the three objects that were lying on the makeshift metal table. There were two, mocha-colored fingers (departed from the body) lying on pieces of fabric, and a black and yellow knife carved from a 'DANGER' handlebar from inside the drop ship. It was probably to one of the vents that lead to the outside air, considering if you were in space, opening them would be as it says 'DANGER'.

Clarke picked up the knife, examining it. Supposedly, Octavia had persisted Jasper to finally go back outside the camp, and he had tripped and saw these items on the ground. They were obviously Wells fingers. "This knife was made from metal from the drop ship," she said, as if voicing my thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked, frighteningly confused.

"It means what you think it means," I cut in, still glaring at the metal tabletop. "It means trouble, a shit load of trouble."

Bellamy had his arms crossed, face pensive. "Who else knows about this?" He asked his sister.

"No one, we brought it straight here." Octavia answered truthfully, hands splayed out on the metal.

"It means the grounders didn't kill Wells." Clarke's eyes were wide as saucers, with half disbelief and half grievance. "It was one of us." Even before she knew her next actions, I did, I knew Clarke – she was going to find something for closure.

"There's a murderer in the camp," Jasper announced.

Those words felt like a spear piercing my chest. "Half of us are murderers, that does not make a difference," I snapped harshly. My mood was just not going to come up for the next week or two. Everything people said lead to murdering or killing or fucking Bellamy. I wasn't going to get any rest of this, at this rate it was going to haunt my daydreams.

"She's right, there's more than one murderer in this camp." Bellamy placed his hands on his hips, blowing out a short sigh through his lips. "This isn't news, let's keep it quiet." I understood his reasoning almost instantly, because I knew that the repercussions of the other prisoners discovering someone that had the mindset of killing another prisoner – would only fire them up with the motive to kill said person. It was like the domino theory – except communism no longer existed, and it isn't countries, but actual humans. It sounds sick and psychotic, but half of the prisoners were transformed that way by the Ark.

I promptly stepped back as Clarke placed the knife down, circling to rush out of the tent. I knew what her plan was – but who was I to stop her? Bellamy was, if he was acting role of leadership. And he did, hands upward as if attempting to tame a lioness. "Get out of my way, Bellamy," she demanded.

"Let's think about this. Look what we've achieved." He gestured shortly around us, for example the tent. "The wall, the patrols – like it or not, thinking the grounders killed Wells is good for us."

Clarke's lips pursed, and I sighed as for what was to come. "Oh, good for _you_, you mean. Keep people afraid and they'll work for you." She sneered, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Is that it –"

"Yeah, that's it." Bellamy said, nonplussed. "It's good for all of us. Fear of the grounders is building _that_ wall." A muscle in his jaw jumped from his teeth gritting together, and I could only imagine the frustration building with him. Clarke was damn good at persisting when she knew no one else wanted to consider her opinion.

She shook her head, in disbelief.

I rolled my eyes, finally pushing my headache aside to deal with the commotion. "He's half-right. It isn't fear – its motivation, to protect each other. There's a difference."

"And besides, what are you going to do? Just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward?" Bellamy met my eyes and gave a single nod of appreciation, which really made me anger, in all seriousness.

'_Well at least I did not go from being the solo con to following Bellamy around like a lost puppy.' _

"You don't even know whose knife that is." Bellamy stated.

"Oh really?" Clarke quipped and grasping the handle of the knife, victory spreading over her previous anger.

I felt my heart sink to the pit of my stomach as she said the words J.M. There were no other people around camp with those initials except John Murphy, the boy I had previously just gotten in a tussle with. I let out a breath, and albeit I wanted him to be given a few punches too, Clarke did not realize the consequences.

"The people have a right to _know_."

Just as Clarke shoved past Bellamy and near the opening of the tent, I grabbed her sleeve, my expression pleading. "Come on, Clarke, we really need to think about this –"She didn't even look back at me as she yanked herself away, storming out of the tent as if she was on a mission from God. Or the Devil – she could decide on that one later when all hell breaks loose.

I sucked on my bottom lip, lifting my eyes to Bellamy. "Well, damn." It was the only two words that could summarize would had just happened. With the leader of the prisoners directly behind me, I followed after Clarke, half dreading what was going to transpire.

When she finally came into view, she was pushing Murphy right in the chest. "You son of a bitch!" She yelled, half drowning in the loss of her best friend.

Murphy was smiling, though, because he thought she was being – well, Clarke. "What's your problem," he demanded, chuckling.

"Recognize this?" She held up his knife, scorn written all over her face.

"My knife. Where'd you find it?" He reached for it, but she pulled away right in time for his fingers to snatch through empty air.

I was perplexed on how sincere Murphy seemed with the whole ordeal. He was generally surprised to see her holding his knife, which left empty questions in my head. It was either he was a very good actor, or he was not our vigilante masking themselves in the camp.

"Where you dropped it after you killed Wells!" I'd never seen Clarke so mad.

"Where – what?" All playfulness perished from his expression, followed by a seriousness to where I was not sure whether or not he was the killer. I stood a ways behind Bellamy, Octavia, and Jasper, watching the scene play out with a sharp eye. "The grounders killed Wells, not me," he said, looking around when he noticed everyone was scrutinizing him with imploring gazes.

"I know what you did," Clarke's voice shook. "And you're going to pay for it."

I cleared my throat. Not so golden words. I'd give her a bronze for discreetness and a silver for not crying – if she cried, I was pretty sure Murphy was done for.

"Really?" Murphy peered at her, his expression '_what-the-hell'_. "Bellamy, you really believe this crap?"

Bellamy opened his mouth, briefly, but nothing came out and instead he shifted on his feet. As if waiting for something no one else knew – except me.

"You threatened to kill him – we all heard you," Clarke explained, voice harsh. "You _hated_ Wells."

"_Plenty_ of people hated Wells. His father was the Chancellor that _locked_ us up."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who got in a knife fight with him!"

"Yeah, and I didn't kill him then, either."

When Octavia said, "You tried to kill Jasper too," I shook my head solemnly. This was not going to end well for him or anyone. This was the shift in the present when every prisoner began thinking the possibility of Murphy being the murderer, judging by the whispers and angry hisses – they were believing it.

Murphy skimmed his blue eyes around, am expression akin to betrayal written on his face. "Y'know what, this is ridiculous." He glared at Clarke, "I don't have to listen to you. I don't have to answer to anybody!"

"Come again?" Bellamy still had his arms crossed, his voice leaking with authority.

Murphy swallowed, indecision flickering in his eyes. He strode forward, to Bellamy, almost begging. "Bellamy, look, I'm telling you man, I didn't do this."

"They found his fingers on the ground with your knife." They were neither words of relief nor consolation, but the hard facts – perhaps not the truth, because this wasn't some judicial system or court, all we could rely on here was the cold, hard facts. And the facts justified him guilty.

"Is this the kind of society we want?" Clarke asked everyone, in the middle of the area, the prisoner's eyes fully focused on her. "You say there should be no rules, does that mean we can kill each other – without _punishment_?"

"I already told you I didn't kill _anyone_." Murphy snapped.

"I say we float him!" Connor, oh of course it is to be Connor, announced from the sidelines. A chorus of cheers agreed with him, and my eyes drifted closed. It was too late, most of the prisoners are narrow-minded, they would agree with just about anyone with a crazy, illogical ideal.

"That's not what I'm saying," Clarke told him.

"Why not, he deserves to float, its justice." Connor encouraged.

"Revenge isn't justice!"

"_Don't start something you can't finish, kid." _I wonder how many times Jake had to tell Clarke that when she was growing up, because if he was alive, this would be one of those defining moments. I can't say that when Connor got the prisoners screaming for justice, that I would be sad with Murphy gone – I wouldn't, but it still wasn't right in the view of this so-called 'justice' and 'float him', especially since I knew that Murphy wasn't the killer.

Actually, I knew exactly who the killer was.

My eyes honed in on Charlotte from across the camp behind Connor, and I wondered how she could take Bellamy and my words so twistedly. The only reason I had behind her being the murderer, was the fact that Wells had been stabbed in the similar puncture that I had done to Atom. Charlotte must have stayed afterward and seen the whole bleeding process take place.

The escalation rose a higher degree when Murphy tried to run past the prisoners, and someone tripped him. He crashed into the ground to only receive a vicious kick to the ribs by some guy. Someone knocked into my shoulder to go join the mosh pit of prisoners beating on Murphy, and it was all because Clarke imagined 'punishment' and 'rules' and 'society' would fit well together in her short speech.

Yeah, chaos ensued.

I ambled over to be adjacent to Bellamy, my eyes just leveled with his nose. "You're not going to stop this, are you?" He already had a strong grip on Octavia's arm to keep her in place.

"Clarke should have known this would happen. She lives with the consequences."

"What – Blake, by a _lynching_?" Even as they tossed Murphy down a small hill and threw a cored rope over a sturdy tree limb, I knew the outcome. There was a difference between consequences and death, especially when she had been only trying to defend Wells death and proving his killer (only if she had gotten the correct one). And I'm sorry if it will ever offend Murphy if he lives through this, but I was not going to be that person to step forward and say that little innocent Charlotte was the killer lurking in the night.

I would be the one getting lynched.

Clarke was desperately attempting to stop it, even when they had Murphy bound and gagged, his feet barely scraping against the metal tabletop surface someone had placed under him. The shouting of approval of the others prisoners were becoming effectively annoying in my ears.

"You can stop this!" Clarke prodded Bellamy's shoulder with her hand. "They'll listen to you!"

Connor spoke in spite of Clarke's fruitless tries, "Bellamy! _You_ should do it!" And then the other prisoners repeatedly shouting Bellamy's name. I knew Bellamy enough to know that he was a people pleaser, perhaps not when we were kids, but here, when he was the proclaimed leader, he would have to follow the crowd's wishes.

"Bellamy, don't do this – don't do this!" Clarke was on the verge of tears.

I looked away when he held Clarke back and kicked the stand out from under Murphy's feet. Perhaps I should have been ashamed of ever knowing Bellamy, or mad for his actions, but I comprehended on why he did what he did. It was for more or less selfish reasons for his own reputation, but it was also to keep order, despite his saying of no rules, there were always loopholes.

Clarke cried out in horror, face red with the exertion of unshed tears. "How could you!" She yelled out, hitting him repeatedly as if it would make a difference.

"This is on you, princess, you should have kept your mouth shut!" Bellamy roared back, and despite his willingness to please the other prisoners, I saw the reflection of guilt in his brown eyes.

The moment Finn broke through the crowd with a, "What the hell are you doing?!" with Monty directly behind him, I knew that everything was going downhill. "Cut him down!" Finn went to lunge for Murphy, but Connor clutched him by his jacket and held him back forcefully, a knife in his hands.

Everything was getting out of hand. Far too fast. Through the crowd, I was appalled when my eyes locked on with chocolate brown. Charlotte knew I knew, and the intensifying terror in her expression struck me to the core. I nodded my head once, and then pointed to my position. She understood me.

"Stop! Just stop, okay?! Murphy didn't kill Wells . . . I did!" Charlotte's loud proclamation of her being the killer caused a massive, tense silence to befall the whole camp present. She choked on her breath and ran to me just as I scooped her up to my chest, her legs locked around my waist with her face buried into the side of my neck.

Bellamy's crestfallen expression was almost enough for me to regret telling Charlotte to go ahead with her declaration. I inclined my head toward the tent we had previous been in, and he curtly nodded back in my direction. I quickly escaped the looks were Charlotte was getting, the white, blue, and red parachute obscuring the outside.

Running my hand over her sandy blond hair, whispering soothing words in her ears. I understood what was to be done – if Charlotte had the nerve to kill someone, why would she not do it again? It took all of my willpower just to point a knife at someone, and Charlotte could murder someone in cold blood?

Taking a life was meant to be hard.

* * *

"Bring out the girl, Bellamy!" The shout was inflamed with anger and hoarseness, the cord that had been previously wrapped around his neck having roughed up his voice to incoherent rasps. Murphy had gotten up from his downfall, avenging himself by killing the murderess herself.

Bellamy clenched his first together harshly, his stance tense in the tent of the parachute. "Why, Charlotte?" He sounded emotionally troubled, face containing a physical grimace.

"I was just trying to slay my demons, like you told me! Marcy said I anyone could do it, I could!" She cried out, panic written all over her face, her shoulders shaking.

Clarke blinked in confusion, whirling on the two of us. I crossed my arms as a defense mechanism, Bellamy keeping a hand on his hip as he closed his eyes as if he had a blaring headache echoing across his eyes. "What the hell is she talking about?" Clarke demanded.

"S-She misunderstood me – Charlotte, that is _not_ what we meant." Bellamy faced her, eyeing her with a heavy amount of distress. His eyes scanned upward and caught my own, I was weighing down with the apprehension. His expression held six troubled words: _I don't know what to do._

"Bring the girl out now!" Murphy screamed from outside, patience snapping.

"Please don't let them hurt me!" Charlotte begged.

Bellamy swallowed, turning to face Finn and Clarke, who were practically pacing with their own rapid ponderings. "If you guys have any bright ideas, speak up," he said, because it was obvious that he was not of a clue on how to proceed from any of this.

"They won't kill her," I stated. It was only half-truth and mindless saying before I even thought of how I had meant to say it, merely because it was a fact in my book of rules. The prisoners wouldn't allow Murphy to kill a kid, especially a girl, but the punishment would be severe, more than likely.

"Wow," Bellamy faced me with a sarcastic delighted expression. "That was the best way to bring down a thirteen year-old kid. _Good_ job."

"Oh shut up, Blake. You're the one who mentioned slaying demons, and I'm pretty sure it crossed your mind the fact that she was having nightmares about Jaha in the first place! Wells is kind of on that family tree!"

"Go to hell, Marcel," he snarled.

"I'll meet you there."

The silence besides the chattering of the prisoners outside was roaring in my ears, and I bit my lip and faced away from Bellamy, scowling at the red fabric of the tent. This wasn't helping the situation in the slightest, and judging by Charlotte's trembling bottom lip, our arguing had only made it worse.

"Oh, now you two decide to be quiet?" Bellamy growled, his glare cutting through Clarke and Finn.

"Those are your boys out there," Finn argued, but his voice betrayed otherwise. He just looked drained from the recent events that had taken place.

"This was not my fault. If she had listened to me those idiots would still be building the wall!" Bellamy was quick to defend himself, but he was correct. And judging by Clarke pinching the bridge of her nose, she knew that just as well as they all did. But no one could blame her for desiring to defend her dead best friend.

"Hey, you wanted to build a society, princess?!" Murphy called out, his voice muffled by the obvious pain and rage. "Let's build a society, bring her out!"

Charlotte whimpered lowly, near tears. Her hand seemed to instinctively seek out my own, and she gripped my fingers impossibly tight. "No – _please_, Bellamy," she pleaded.

Bellamy closed his eyes, obviously thinking on what he was going to do. He kneeled down and grabbed the girl by her shoulders, half-smiling. "Charlotte, hey, it's going to be okay," he reassured her. "Just – stay with them." As his eyes darted to Clarke and Finn, he lastly glanced up at me.

I nodded my head, running my hand down her hair soothingly. I whispered in her ear, "Be strong, Charlotte," tugging my hand free as I softly spoke. My eyes flickered to Clarke and Finn and I sent them a brief, curt grin, following Bellamy as we stepped outside into the fresh, humid air of the afternoon. Murphy did not look easy on the eyes at the moment (not that he had previously), blood caked most of his neck and the lower part of his face, his blue eyes deranged with enacting revenge.

"Well, well," he walked forward with a forbidden confidence, toward Bellamy and me, almost mockingly, "look who decided to join us. The alpha and his puppy," his sneer matched my own as the statement registered into our previous anticlimactic conversation.

"Call it down and back off," Bellamy ordered strongly. He didn't step back or flinch when Murphy got into his face, his face remained unmoving and fearless.

"Or what? What are you going to do, Bellamy? Hang me?" The boy said, almost a whisper.

"I was just giving the people what they wanted."

Murphy genuinely seemed mildly hurt by that statement, but he quickly masked it by clicking his tongue in thought. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea. Why don't we do that right now?" He turned on the heel of his boot, back toward the anxious group of prisoners. "So who here wants to see the real murderer hung up?" He raised his hand. "All in favor?" Only a few other guys in the front raised their arms. "I see," he snorted, carelessly glowering. "So it's okay to string me up for _nothing_, but when this little _bitch_ confesses, you want to let her walk?!" No one spoke up, stepped forward – only shifting uneasily on their feet, partly from guilt. "Cowards! All of _you_!"

"Get over yourself, Murphy. She's a mere misguided child. It wasn't as if it didn't relieve some stress to see you hanging by a rope." I smirked as his expression went from distraught until he was practically frothing with venomous resentment.

He gritted his teeth, "You're family would know all about hanging from ropes, now wouldn't it?"

My chest froze and my legs went numb from the fury that coursed through my veins. Instead of me blowing up, though, it was Bellamy whose fury flared threateningly. "Hey – _Murphy_! Murphy," he shouted, rushing forward in just a few short steps, his height easily rivaling the other boy's. "It's over." His words held conclusion, drawing the argument and unnecessary shouting to a close.

Murphy's expression went blank and his arms dropped like all of this was for nothing. "Whatever you say, boss," he muttered bitterly.

I watched as Bellamy's shoulders almost immediately relaxed from tension as he turned back around to face me, one eyebrow quirking upward from the comment I had made earlier (which probably would have only made the whole thing worse if Blake hadn't of stopped it). I shrugged nonchalantly, but just as he took a handful of paces ahead, Murphy went into action.

He sprinted forward and clasped one of the logs from a pile to my left, grabbing it with his hand and swinging for Bellamy's head. The lumber made contact with his crown just as I burst toward Murphy, finally given a reason to beat the shit out of this kid. My knee propelled into his stomach just as he punched Jasper, and I took relish in hearing him gag for air. He tried to lean back up, but I snatched his hair into my right hand and impacted my elbow against his temple.

John, one of the boys who had agreed with Murphy of executing Charlotte, precipitately jumped in my direction and restrained my arms before I could do any more physical damage. I kicked my legs to force myself free, but his grip was far stronger than my own. Octavia screamed in regard of her older brother, rushing to his immediate aid, and I glanced over at them in worry – unaware of the fist rushing to my face before my head snapped back from the pressure.

Flaring pain erupted through my skull, igniting my vision to burst into rays of black and red lights that blurred into one endless dark color. I felt Murphy clutch my jaw roughly between his hand before he threw me into the ground, kicking my ribs once for good measure before they went off to try and locate where Clarke and Finn had took Charlotte.

Face pressed into wet dirt, I was barely aware of someone rolling me over on my back before I was forced into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Solitary confinement was a bitch. When so many years, months, and days pass, some may think, "hmm, well I'm sure you can find something to do." No, no not really – after so much time the food they make everyday taste like cardboard, and every color that wasn't gray or neutral amazed me to no end. _

_That was my life. Fucking pathetic, right? I didn't even have a window view like the other Delinquents were offered, like, was stabbing a man with a screwdriver through the throat really this punishable? Even when I thought that, I almost smacked my own forehead. Well, of course it was – what was I thinking, I forgot that defending myself after being choked by his vengeful hands was wrong._

_Or so, that was what Kane and Chancellor Jaha had told me. God, they both made me sick. Kane followed the man around like some sidekick, repeating what he said while making you feel like you were three year's old. I hated men like that, not to mention that Kane had vividly expressed the dislike he had held for Ace in the first place. Stating, and I quote: _

"_A kid who stuck his nose in the wrong places." _

"_That Quinn boy – he was practically a Delinquent himself."_

_I slammed my eyes closed, tapping my head back against the metal wall of the meager sized room, I wished I could sing or something. Anything that could entertain me – I was going to go insane if they kept me another year. Who does this to a person? Keeps them in captivity over the age of eighteen, each day being haunted by the shadows that stalked by the door, each day wondering if they were going to be floated._

_Abruptly, the jingling of keys clacking together drew my attention toward the steel-barred door of my prison. I fluidly brought myself to my feet and widened my eyes as a guardsmen stepped into the perimeter of the area, two other behind him and eyeing me cautiously. "What the hell is this?" I asked aloud, voice almost cracking from not being used more often. _

"_Prisoner 129 – against the wall, _now_." The leader sent me a pointed stare, as if wanting me to give him a reason to result to violence. When I stayed in my frozen position, he repeated, "Prisoner 129, _the wall_." _

"_I don't think so, Matthew." My glare was like daggers. "Jace would be so disappointed in you –"The man lurched for me before I could process his movement, and the next thing I registered, my front was being rammed into the wall, my teeth biting into my cheek from the pressure. I huffed angrily as he wrenched my arm behind my back, keeping his weight against me, pinning me harshly under the watchful eyes of the other two guards._

"_I should have been expecting this, torture me for two full years, and then float me? It's kind of ingenious, was it Kane's idea?" I suddenly cried out in pain as something snapped around my wrist, needles puncturing my skin. "What the fuck are you doing?" I struggled to break free of his firm grip._

_Matthew's fingers twisted into my hair, tugging back my head so he could hiss in my ear, his voice filled with animosity. "I can't wait to hear of your termination, Quinn," he released me, his hold relinquished. _

_Mouth trembling in anger, I whirled around to attack him, the comment withholding no meaning in my mind – I did not understand what he meant by termination. "You asshole –"Something stung me on my neck, and everything blurred and I could vaguely remember my body crashing into the floor._

* * *

"_Marcel! Marcel, what's miscalculating?!" Ace's frantic voice yelled into my earpiece, and I could faintly see his white-uniformed person clinging to one of the bars outside the Ark._

"_I – I don't know!" I jumped up and fear seized my heart. "Ace! Fucking get into the airlock, what are you doing?!" If something was going wrong with his new oxygen tank, or whatever was wrong with him, I didn't even know that, he needed to get inside the chamber as swift as possible._

"_I need to drill this screw back in, it could cause a fluctuated drop in our oxygen levels, this is just right outside the leaded-layer of the pharmaceutical vents –"_

"_I don't care! Ace, get inside, please!" _

"_Okay, God, just give me a damn second –"Those were his last words._

* * *

The wet rag pressing against my chin stirred me out of my nightmare, Ace's frantic, wide dark green eyes staring at me before the rope hooking him to the Ark snapped and he was flung into oblivious – the unknown darkness of space.

'_Well at least I did not go from being the solo con to following Bellamy around like a lost puppy.'_

'_Well, well, look who decided to join us. The alpha and his puppy.'_

'_You're family would know all about hanging from ropes, now wouldn't it?'_

Damn, John Murphy just knew how to get under your skin – and not in a good way, either.

Eye lashes fluttering open, the tent above me blurred in a mass of gray before everything focused into resolution. I inhaled – and released an anguished moan. My left arm intuitively braced my arms and chest like I could heal it naturally, but if anything, the discomfort only worsened to a maximum to where I felt tears glaze my eyes.

"Don't move," a voice ordered. My head lazed over, Octavia's concerned cerulean blue eyes regarding me with care and worry. I puzzled over the fact that she was beside me, kneeling beside a makeshift bed someone had conjured up for me. She gently placed my arm back to my side, her focus returning on my face. "Murphy did a number on your face," she told me. "Split your lip. . ."

"Damn it." Ignoring her protests, I forced myself to move into a sitting position. The heat blazing through my chest demanded that I should rethink on even tensing my muscles, but there was no way I could rests right now. When I placed my wobbly feet underneath me and stood, I was pleased to feel some of the weight fall of my chest. The pain was bearable. "Where's Bellamy?" I asked her, recalling the fact that the last time I had clearly visualized him he had been knocked conscious by Murphy smacking a log across his head.

"Here," a deeper, male voice answered. Ducking into the tent, I could not help but not let out a thankful sigh for him being safe. Clarke was the closest person here with me into this camp, but Bellamy was my only connection with Ace that hadn't vanished like everything else – it was one of the many reasons I almost hated him at times, that constant reminder he proved to be. Bellamy's chestnut brown eyes skimmed over my face, and anyone could easily see his aggravation. "I'm going to kill him," he said in a lowly, fingers drumming against his bicep as he folded his arms.

"Where is Murphy? I might just do it myself." A thought occurred to me, and I quickly faced him. "Where did Clarke and Finn take Charlotte?"

"I don't know. I'm going to find her – Murphy and three others went on _hunt_ for her," he sneered with disgust. He scanned me again, uncertain. "Can you even run?"

"Well – _Yeah_, of course." It wasn't a lie, I could run – it would probably just feel like a spear repeatedly jabbing me in my ribcage. I don't think any of my ribs were broken, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to stand if so, so I made my own diagnostic of them being severely bruised.

"Bell, you were just – you could have a concussion or something!" Octavia said, scrambling to her feet. She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to prevent him from swerving toward the opening of the parachute. "It's dangerous out there when it's dark! We – We don't even really know what _is_ out there!"

"There's a child out there that's going to get punished for something she doesn't deserve." He pulled away, but softly removed her hand. "A grounder won't stop us."

The forests was abnormally mute as the two of us sprinted through the thickening foliage. Bellamy wasn't kidding when he said he was going after her, he wasn't being merciful to me by running with those long legs, either. It was also very dark, the shadows of the trees weren't doing my eyes any justice. The nighttime was not as frightening as some may think when you're running through the woods, it was almost tranquil. I flashed a glimpse to Bellamy, but I could only see a slight outline of his defined jawline before my eyes lost focus and I was required to pay attention to my steps against the forests floor.

Abruptly, a gleam of something orange caught my peripheral vision. I halted in my steps, blindly outstretching my hand to Bellamy to stop him as well. My hand grasped his wrist and he followed my lead on dropping into a crouch, his gasps of air similar to my own. It was Murphy's group ahead of us, all five of them were holding flaming torches.

Murphy was calling out Charlotte's name, dangerously alerting his presence to anyone in a mild radius of his group. I cursed underneath my breath, looking over to Bellamy to hear his opinion on the whole matter – my breath cut short from saying anything. We were far too close, enough for discomfort. Close enough that his pants faintly warmed the tip of my nose, and I could more or less see the mahogany flecks in his brown eyes, even through the gloom of the opaque sky above us.

_Okay, Mar. Back it up some before he notices. _I acted as if I shifted myself to one knee, effectively gaining some distance away from him. "He seriously thinks Clarke and Finn didn't hide Charlotte somewhere productive," I scoffed, half at his idiocy, the other half because my voice wavered.

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, let's just find them," Bellamy went to stand back up, but I gripped the side of his jacket and yanked him back down.

I gladly smiled at that familiar scowl he sent me. "If you didn't notice, we're in a pretty large occupied area filled with trees and rivers and plenty of places to hide, that's like going out to swim with your feet tied together."

Bellamy grabbed arm and hauled me up, his voice steadfast. "Then you better know how to use your arms." _Touché_, I silently thought. "Stay behind me and keep up." Like it or now, that was a hard thing to do. Our legs were nearly the same length, but he had an advantage in not having his ribs kicked repeatedly.

There were several times that I was forced to clutch Bellamy's arm when my foot got tangled into a root, the fucking downfall of not seeing good in the dark. Bellamy was going on his merry without any issues, did he have feline vision or something? I was almost fixing to demand we take a short stop when his back went taut. My eyes gazed over his shoulder and I gasped, seeing Charlotte – but there was no Clarke and Finn present – and Murphy's group was insanely close to her position.

"What is she doing?" I questioned in a whisper. Charlotte was looking around, disappointed like she was _searching_ for Murphy.

"I don't know," was his reply.

She suddenly kept running toward the sounds of Murphy's calling, and I was grateful that Bellamy was beyond fast with his reflexes. He sprinted forward a few yards and caught the girl around her waist, placing his hand over her mouth and hushing her quietly when she cried out in fear. "Shh, shh."

I rushed in and grabbed her face, smiling broadly. "You're okay, thank goodness!"

Charlotte was breathing fast, her chest heaving. Her eyes honed in on my face and guilt tears rimmed her eyes. "W-What happened t-to – your lip –"

"This is nothing," I grabbed her by her upper-arm. "Everything's okay. We need to get you out of here –"Just as I began to take a step in another direction, she yanked her arm free and shook her head frantically. My eyes darted upward at how close Murphy's shouts and his groups cries were growing closer.

Bellamy grasped her wrist and began walking as fast as he could, away from the choruses of footsteps drawing nearer each passing moment that we wasted. "No! Let me go!" Charlotte yelped, attempting to twist her arm free. I was just as confused as the expression he shot me.

He reached back and grabbed her, her whimpers evident. "Hey! Hey, I'm – _we_ are trying to help you."

"I'm not your _sister_, just stop helping me!" She sucked in a breath as if it had taken all of her willpower to speak those words. Charlotte whirled around and began shouting, "I'm over _here_! I'm –"

I circled my around her shoulders just as Bellamy clutched the front of her jacket. "Are you trying to get us killed?" He demanded.

"Just go, okay! I'm the one they want!"

"Okay, Charlotte." His voice was so gentle, I almost hardly recognized it. "Listen to me. I _won't_ leave you."

"_Please_, Bellamy –"

The others were too close. I had to act fast. "Take her now." I commanded sternly, releasing her and stepping away, toward Murphy's group. "I'll distract them, just get her away."

When our eyes connected, he desired to see me reassurance that I would not hurt or throw myself in front of anything too dangerous or life threatening. I smiled, only briefly, and he took that as a go signal. He scooped Charlotte over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of protests, and began running.

Inhaling deeply, I adjusted my eyes the best I could. They had torches, so that meant my vision was more advantageous in the dark. I couldn't them see me, so fortunately their eyesight only went the area that their torches reached. I scurried behind a tree, grasping around for anything that would be useable to do a little of damage. But then again – he did practically beat the shit out of me, I did not see why I couldn't return the favor, if not a little.

My fingers brushed against a log, and I almost snickered thinking back to Murphy whacking Bellamy over the head. Guess he get to feel it a little bit. An aura of orange was swiftly approaching my position, but I remained in their blind sight of the foliage.

Without exactly certain if someone was there or not, I slung with all of my strength, into the path they had been jogging down. The limb smashed into the boy who had held me down, John was his name, stomach. He gagged from the object hitting his abdomen, doubling over from the pain. I quickly staggered back behind the tree, keeping myself hidden (albeit I knew it was only a matter of time) from Murphy even as he began yelling out threats and harsh profanities at whoever had hit John.

I was only there to provide Bellamy some time, so not caring if someone saw my silhouette, I took off sprinting in the direction that he had been carrying Charlotte to, aware of her cries for Murphy. Why was she willing to sacrifice herself? Someone was on my heels as I ran, but I didn't dare glance back to see who it was.

I bust into the clearing of a Cliffside, staggering in front of Bellamy as he cursed just as Murphy and his group appeared behind me. "Fuck," I hissed, realizing the extent of the occurring situation.

"You cannot fight all of us, give her up," Murphy said, glaring holes into the girl.

"Well I could've back there if I wanted to," I bit back.

"I guarantee I can take a few of you with me," Bellamy growled, his shoulders hunched, preparing himself to launch into a fight.

Clarke and Finn unexpectedly burst in, Clarke racing to put herself in-between the two males. "Bellamy, stop!" She cried out, eyes wide. "This has gone too far," she said to Murphy. "Just calm down, we'll talk about this."

Murphy honestly seemed close to considering the option, when he fluidly pulled out a knife and grabbed Clarke into a headlock, bracing the edge of the blade against her throat. I immediately screeched in rage, throwing myself forward to be near enough, if he did kill her, to tear out his eyes with my fingernails. How could anyone hurt her, anyways? Clarke was the fucking prime example of a superhero, someone stupid enough to take risks but smart enough to use everything to her advantage.

"I am _sick_, of listening to you talk," he said in her ear.

"Son of a bitch, you let her go!" I yelled, and I had never felt so angry in that moment. "I swear –"

"What?" The purple bruise that my elbow had created went violet from the torches as his head snapped to me. "You'll what?"

I sneered, loathing burning underneath my skin.

"Let her go," Finn demanded, edging forward.

"Stop!" Murphy pointed to both of us with his free hand, blue eyes serious as he snarled. "I will _slit_ her throat."

"No please," Charlotte pleaded from somewhere behind me, but the blood rushing through my ears left it hard to understand anything at this point. "Please don't hurt her."

Rain splattered my hair against the back of my neck and face, and on any other day it would have been soothing, but now I was drenched and freezing. My eyes stayed connected with Clarke's, and I saw the questions lurking in her expression as she scanned the bruise on my mouth, my split lip burned each time water dripped against the injury.

"Don't hurt her?" Murphy asked, eyes narrowing. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. You come with me right now, I will let her go."

"You're going to let her go anyways, you asshole." My hand itched to reach back into the waistband of my pants and grab my knife. I wanted nothing more than to see this guy suffer for the rest of his life.

"Don't do it, Charlotte," Clarke told the girl, her voice strained.

Bellamy easily held back Charlotte when she decided she was going to hand herself over. He, the leader, turned back to his once right-hand man, his hand out as a peace calling. "Murphy, this is not happening," he told him, jaw clenched.

I revolved my eyes to him, just as Charlotte parted her lips. "I can't let any of you get hut anymore," Her chocolate brown eyes darted to my face, tears brimming her eyelids. "Not because of me, not after what I did." My first instinct was to comfort her, I don't know what it was with this thirteen year-old, but she had glued onto me whether she liked it or not.

"Oh, Charlotte –"I cut myself off as her feet shifted toward the edge of the cliff. Bellamy and I both lunged to her at the same time, my scream mingling with Clarke's, and my fingertips just barely grazing Charlotte's hood. "_No_!" Devastation hit me like a violent hurricane, and I fisted the grass into my hands because she had just committed suicide over something that could have been resolved if we had not been so mindless. "_Charlotte_!"

"No, no, _no_," Clarke's tears were unmistakable on her face, her voice cracking with horror.

I couldn't stand to look down the side of the cliff any longer, I turned over into a sitting position, rain dripping off my eyelashes, and let out the most sorrowful wail that I had ever made. The last time I had shredded a tear was Ace's death, but I had just saw a girl kill herself because of a misguided phrase and advice. _Oh my God, this is my fault. _I wept, holding my face as tears streamed from my eyes.

_No, I should be stronger than this – I-I shouldn't cry –_

I could not stop myself, though.

I knew Bellamy's grief would have resulted to anger, and that assumption proved correctly when I heard him punching Murphy time after time, his growls of rage and sadness like fingernails scraping against chalkboard in my ears.

"Bellamy, stop, you'll kill him!" Clarke cried.

_Oh God, just _kill_ him. Please._

Why am I so broken up over death? Over her death? I'd killed before, why had I not been so overcome by my transactions like Charlotte was? I had basically been getting rid of my demons as well, as far as the phrase is stretched in meaning, anyways.

_Charlotte handed the knife to Bellamy, and I almost smiled by how clumsy she was with it, handing it to him blade-first. "Don't be afraid," she told Bellamy._

"_Don't be afraid, little Mars."_

"_There's nothing to be afraid of, Marcel!"_

"_Being afraid is nothing to be ashamed of, you just need to overcome it." He brushed his hand over my head, smiling gently. "If anyone, you can do it, my dear sister."_

"He deserves to die!" Bellamy roared. I hauntingly skimmed my eyes toward the crowd of people to my left, Bellamy was standing over Murphy, the boy's face bloodied from the hits he had endured.

"We don't decide on who lives and dies!" Clarke yelled, pushing him back with the palm of her hand, away from Murphy who was prone on the ground. "_Not_ down here!"

"But didn't we? Because of all of us, we just forced a little girl to jump off the side of a cliff!" I was up to my feet, and before I could think it through, my knife was brandished in my hand, my fingers tightening around the base. I charged headlong at Murphy, intent on spilling his blood.

Finn snagged my wrist, twisting my arm behind my hand until the pain was enough to make me drop the knife. I didn't fight him, though, I was drained both physically and mentally at this point.

Bellamy trembled, "So help me God, if you say the _people_ have a right to _decide_, I will –"

"I don't know! I was wrong before, _okay_ – you were right. Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're going to survive down here, we can't just live by whatever the hell we want." Clarke explained, almost begging him to comprehend with her eyes. "We need rules."

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose and growled underneath his breath. "And who makes those rules, huh? You?" He narrowed his eyes.

"For now, we make the rules. Okay?" She turned toward me, licking her lips. "Okay, Marcy, please?"

I shook my head, shoulder's shaking. I just wanted to sleep.

"So what then, we just take him back to camp and pretend it never happened?!"

"No!" She cried out at the insinuation, turning to look down at Murphy with an apathetic frown. "We banish him."

That was my cue. I couldn't listen to this anymore. I wrenched myself away from Finn, picking up my knife, and marched away. I could feel their eyes on my back, but I didn't care. Murphy deserved more than _banishment_, he treated people like shit, he took his role with Bellamy too far, mistreating the camp in terms of working and doing whatever the hell he thought was right – the fucking boy didn't even know the definition of '_right'_.

* * *

The first thing I did when I entered the camp, was that I went and cut the mainframe communications cord from a random panel that ran the direct line. I didn't even think about the repercussions or consequences, I just slammed the front of my knife through it, shutting the panel before my face was electrically burned by the sparks. Monty would not even realize it until he would attempt to try and reach the Ark through Morse code.

I didn't think about my friend's family while doing it – I just thought the fact that if the Ark had never sent Charlotte down here to begin with, I would not be feeling this heartache. I hated them – no, I _loathed_ them. I hated the system, the Ark, everything that had to do with it – even the people resident on board.

I went back to the tent I had been previously in before, where Octavia had nursed me, and quickly undressed into my long-sleeved tee-shirt and pants – not caring if I was soaking wet, I climbed under the thin fabric of whatever was offered to me as a blanket, and just curled into a ball.

Even when someone entered my tent, I remained still.

"Monty thinks he can –"

I cut Bellamy off, "I cut the line. He'll just end up frying the line he had connected, probably take everyone's wristband off because of the unstable electrical flow."

He released a tired sigh, and I heard him shuffle forward. "Marcy –"

"I really don't want to talk. _Really_."

Sometimes I didn't mean those words, but I said them anyways. He used to have been easily to read them when we were younger, and he'd start tickling me into submission of giggles, or he would take my face in-between his hands and force a kiss on my lips while I was mid-word.

He used to be something more. Something I had forgotten.

But as he left my tent, it was the same as always, he didn't say anything nor look back.

* * *

**A/N: Hoped you liked it! Review! **


	5. Twilight's Last Gleaming

_Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain . . . To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices – today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it."_

_Kevyn Aucoin_

* * *

**The Game with no Rules – **_Twilight's Last Gleaming_

"You _did_ this?!" My initial shock of perplexity was when Clarke had roared in my face as she spun me around, but what really set in the deep hostility was when she grabbed me by the front of my tank top, bunching it between her clenched fingers, and used all of her strength to shove me. If I hadn't have kept a solid step behind me, I would have easily tripped backwards into the tree behind me. Tears glazed her azure eyes, but they were overlooked since her glare sent daggers into my blank expression. "My _mom_," she choked on her words.

"You made her think you were dead anyways," my words were surprisingly cold toward the younger female, bitterness dripping from each word. "I did you a favor – we did everyone a favor."

"No, you did _yourself_ a favor!" Clarke screamed, enraged.

I was far too numb to feel any blame for my actions. "I do not have to justify my actions to you, Clarke Griffin." My gaze burned into Bellamy's. "Or anybody." I shoved her arm away and walked into the opposite direction, my head bowed.

They didn't see the tears.

* * *

_**Less than six hours earlier . . .**_

* * *

"_I'm sorry about your friend." Bellamy's voice was sincere, and I hadn't expected it to be anything else but. I couldn't look at him, though, and just kept my legs hanging off the catwalk, my head bent forward so I could see down about twenty flights of stairs through the Ark. It was directly above where the Delinquents were kept imprisoned, and Bellamy and I frequently came here when we just wanted to be alone when something was unsettling or upsetting us. _

_I heard him release a sigh, his boots sliding against the metal until he dropped down beside me, fortunately giving me space between us. "If it's about Jace working –"_

"_It isn't," I snapped, suddenly cold. "Ace is quitting the Guard. Jake said he could get him set up over assisting him in engineering until he could get back on his feet."_

"_Why is he quitting the guard, though?" _

"_I don't know." _

_Silence washed over the area we were in, the dim lighting only making the wordless quietness only unappealing to the situation. I bit down on my bottom lip, frustrated with the occurrences that just seemed to be popping up randomly in my life. A part of me knew that my father had been bound to commit suicide at one point or another. My mother had been the light of his life, the ray of sunshine that he had never seen (but he had always used that metaphor), and her passing from illness had placed him into a deep depression._

_But it did not mean that I would accept that – he had no right to do that to his two children._

"_Sorry," I murmured to Bellamy, apologizing. "It's just been a rough two days." My smile reached short of my eyes._

"_I know," he replied. My breath sharpened and labored when I felt his slender, calloused fingers tug gently on my hand, not twining our fingers, but just blandly holding my hand with his right. He swiftly perceived my reaction and that twisted, coy smirk appeared on his expression. He'd just turned seventeen, but all of the baby fat that he'd used to have had long but perished from his narrow and tan features, and as always, the acuteness that his dark eyes held took my breath away. "What?" He asked, curious on how intently I was studying him._

_I slipped my hand away from his, almost reluctantly. "Ace is supposed to be home soon, I should probably go."_

"_You should – but you're not moving."_

_A real smile finally graced my face, fleeting but genuine. "I'm not."_

"Wake up, right now."

Generally, when someone says, "I don't want to talk. _Really_," most people would stop and think, _wow, that must mean she does not want to have a conversation with me nor anyone else, _but in Bellamy's mind, they were saying, _let's leave for two hours and then return demanding order and using an authoritative voice. _Not only had I put emphasize on the 'really', I had also used my begging tone, which was not easy to utilize in any shape, form, or fashion.

Eyes drifting open, face flushing scarlet red, I rolled over on my back to whirl my head around and deliver Bellamy the longest string of curses he would ever hear in his entire life – that is, until I saw his expression. There was a deep worry set the way he furrowed his eyebrows, his jaw was clenching, and his lips were thinned into a purse.

"You're demands are at my beck and call, since I obviously have no strength to outrun you." That sarcastic phrase had sounded much better in my head, and I cursed myself when his frown went from, '_I'm-worried-about-myself-and-Octavia'_ to '_that-didn't-make-any-sense'_. "What do you want?"

"Have you not been hearing everyone outside?" He asked.

"Perhaps, but sleep was far more interesting."

"So you have. Get your ass up, we're going to look for it."

I almost considered drifting back to my subconscious of hope of wishing that he was joking – but he wasn't. I was aware that a drop ship had dropped through the atmosphere belt, and had parachuted itself, drifting toward earth. Whether it contained food or equipment or someone was none of my concern – but the radio the Ark had bound to strap inside of it was. Despite my reluctance to do anything Bellamy said, I knew he was right. We had to go find the damn device before the Ark even thought of boosting the signal on those coms to locate a signal or location or, even more the worse, someone to communicate with.

"Yeah, yeah, up and at'em," I rolled myself over and almost flopped off of my bed, my too-large long-sleeved shirt bunching up and draping wet over my shoulders. I examined it in disgust and scoffed, yanking it over my head and onto the ground somewhere behind me. The itchy fabric was replaced with a humid cool air as it caressed my light skin, swirling me into a brief moment of bliss.

Until Bellamy cleared his throat. Maybe after years I expected awkwardness and blushes, but I should have known better than that. His eyes were half-lidded, with . . .

. . . _disinterest and a mocking raise of one eyebrow_.

Oh wow, clearly _I_ was unattractive. It was either that or my seductive good looks drove him to the point of a flat expression – meaning that his emotions were in overdrive and he could not express his feelings for my body. For some reason I highly doubted the latter of those two.

"Are you going to strip?" Bellamy deadpanned, arms still crossed over his chest, that sullen frown still in place.

I was not one to back down from a sardonic quip. "Hmm, those are only on Friday Night Special's, Blake – don't be silly." I rolled my eyes and waved my arm hazardously toward the opening of the tent. "Go find me a tank top or something, please, so we can go get this over with."

"I don't see why you'd need one. It isn't like it would serve as a distraction if we tried to leave camp anyways." He chuckled underneath his breath, eyes glittering with a slyness so that it had my mind flashing back to old and forgotten memories.

"Touché, Blake, which is exactly why you're going to feel pain if you don't depart from my presence in two seconds." His comments didn't really bother me, because, truthfully, I knew I was not unattractive. I mean, I wasn't Eve's blessed gift or anything, but I wasn't conscious of my body.

Two and a half minutes later Bellamy and I were trekking past the camp's fence, a form-fitting black tank top that was slightly baggy around my abdomen and too tight and constricting around my chest. After a few minutes of silence besides the crickets chirping and toads croaking obnoxiously, I finally slid my eyes to see him. "This is going to come back and bite us in the ass, y'know." I didn't word it as a question.

"I don't care."

"Maybe you should – through different perspectives, we're killing other people's families."

He shot me a keen glare, "If you look at it like that, then why the hell are you even doing this, Marcel?"

"Because I'm not going _back_." It was five words I had used as a mantra to keep myself from stopping from what I was currently doing. The Earth was a true blessing for me: I didn't have to see the people that blamed me for my brother's death, I didn't have to see the metal walls of my solitary confinement – this was a new beginning. The subject was too touchy, so I swiftly reverted my attention to another source of vague interest. "How'd you even convince the camp to not come charging out here like heroes of the night?"

"My word is final," Bellamy said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides a few others, the majority will listen to me."

"You mean your sister, Clarke, and Finn?"

"Don't forget yourself, Marcy."

"Hm, you wish I would."

At some point, all conversation died and instead the only thing I could focus on was not getting my foot twisted into a root or vine on the forests floor. Judging by the sunrays flashing through the treeline from above, I'd say that we'd been jogging for a good hour or so to catch up to the drop ship. By no doubt did Clarke and Finn know of our intentions – perhaps they were just focusing on Bellamy, but soon enough, they would come a startling realization that not everyone was who they thought they were.

Unfortunately, I just had to be _that_ person. Four years ago I would have never been _that_ person.

Breathing through my nose to steady my labored inhalations, I gathered enough of my courage to steal a long look at Bellamy as he easily matched my sprint. Despite my previous efforts to shove down all of those nostalgic, past feelings that we used to contain for one another, they were gradually resurfacing after him being around me so much. It had been much easier when I had been locked away in my own prison cell, without his sarcastic smirk and those dull expressions he made when he found nothing funny or didn't get the pun to a joke – but now he was here, and he did those same things, and goddamn him for it.

I'd used to get butterflies fluttering through my stomach when I'd recount the story of Ace and my grand adventure of our survival on the Ark, how his face would grow the softest and his smile would be a grin. And then I'd get chills when I told him of my parents sacrifice to allow both of us to live, and he'd hug the oxygen out of me until I was wheezing, short of breath.

Key word: '_used'_. The sad part of this situation, was, I did not ever imagine this Bellamy doing any of those things again. It made me wonder what happened to him after I was arrested, because despite it all, I knew that Ace's death and my imprisonment should not have thrown him over the edge.

As if the answer desired to throw itself out in front of me, a panting, soprano voice cut through our silence. "Bellamy! M-Marcy?" Octavia burst from behind a tree, leaning her hand on it for some support to keep from doubling over from lack of air. My name rolled past her lips as a question, like the last thing she expected was for me to be strolling through the woods beside Bellamy. She brushed it off, running forward to us. "What are you two doing?" She asked, eyes darting between us, skeptical.

"Go back to camp, it isn't safe." Bellamy ordered her, but it was obvious our previous conversation of the people who did not listen to him was foreshadowing.

Octavia's expression morphed into betrayal as something dawned on her, and cerulean blue eyes cut to me like she was attempting to burn a whole through my head. She whirled on her brother like a goddess suffocating with wrath. "You lied to everyone," she said forcefully. "You lied to _me_."

Bellamy looked away, almost ashamed.

"You just want whatever is in that pod for yourself –"Octavia jumped right into judging and accusing him, and albeit it was true, Bellamy did not take it well.

His hand shoved harshly against her shoulder, driving her backward a step. "Just go home!" He growled. I instinctively stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, a warning frown planted on my face. Octavia did not know the half of what was happening, there was no use in berating her until she finally scampered off with her tail between her legs.

"You always wanna play the big brother, huh?" Octavia hissed, eyes flaring with rage. "Well, guess what? Jokes on me, you're just a selfish _dick_."

"Octavia!" I released him and placed my hands up, palms out towards both of them – because I knew Bellamy would get fired up by those insulting words. "This really isn't time for fighting –"

"Shut the hell up, _Marcy_," Octavia spat out the nickname, her anger twisting her face into an expression akin to nothing short of traitorous towards me. "You're just screwing over my brother in hopes of getting whatever you want –"

"I did this for you," Bellamy intercepted, scowling at Octavia. "To protect you." He gestured to the left, waving his arm in front of me and toward the sky where the cluster of satellites drifted through space. "Look, if the Ark finds out we're alive, they'll come down. And when they do, _I'm_ dead."

I knew he had done something to get himself aboard the drop ship, but I had not been aware that it was life threatening like mine was. My eyes snapped to his face, which pleaded for his little sister to understand. Octavia's expression was twisted into a pained wince. "What did you do?" She asked.

Bellamy's eyes jerked to mine like he was fixing to go into a full-blown anxiety attack. Outwardly, his face was cooled into a mask of stone, but I sadly saw the inside that was swerving with chaos and helplessness when it had to do with his sister. And I knew when our irises clashed – olive green clashing with mahogany brown – that he did not want me to discern his ultimate endeavor against the Ark to get aboard the drop ship.

I understood, though. I had never told him my full story with that guardsmen, he did not have to tell me his. Boots crunching against loose twigs and fallen leaves, I marched a good thirty to forty feet away. Even though I told myself I was not interested in his backstory, curiosity was winning me over.

Not even three minutes later I saw Octavia scamper away from the corner of my vision, and even from here I could see the strife and pain on her face. It made me feel guilty for all the times I had mentally screamed 'bitch' and 'hormonal bitch' insults about her. Bellamy observed his sister walk away from him, his regret perceptible in his expression.

Rage finally flickered in his eyes as he stalked back towards me, his fingers clenching into pale white fists. I opened my mouth just as he spat, "I don't want to talk. _Walk_."

'_I don't want to talk. _Really_.' _– Marcel Quinn

'_I don't want to talk. _Walk_.' – _Bellamy Blake

We were obviously emotionally detached with talking out our feelings.

* * *

"Oh damn, what a piece of shit," I studied the drop ship with disgust and remorse. I did not even know how that thing had stayed put together during the clash. It was totally outdated in equipment and not to mention the airframe was busted just my gazing at it, half of the aluminum had been ripped clean or melted by the pressure of the fall.

"Let's get this over with," Bellamy muttered. I ducked around him as he pried off the side opening of the shuttle, peeking in around his side to locate the communications device (which would generally be a radio unless the drop ship was programmed with a CB radio, which was highly unlikely). But as I peered inside, my heart beat fluttered wildly in my chest. The space suit was torn and tattered, and a steam of labored breathing fogged the glass of the helmet as the person remained unconscious.

I climbed in, cautiously inspecting the freelance astronaut. When I caught view of who was inside, any words or thoughts died in my throat and head. "Fuck, it's Raven," my teeth clamped shut, harshly. Oh, it was just my luck, the girl who I had viciously murdered her father was here, on Earth, with me. Not only had she been one-sidedly close with said man, but she had also slugged me hard in the face and threatened my life the last time I had previously saw her.

"Who cares, get the radio," Bellamy said impatiently, making a notion with his hand.

I sent him a daggering stare, reaching forward to rip the unconnected wires from one of the drop ship panels, using the blade of my knife to pry them free. Any babbling that had been chiming from the radio died in an instant, and I flipped over to the back of the Ham-styled radio, ripping out the transmitter without much of any pressure. The radio was almost fried to begin with. My hands shoved the device into Bellamy's chest and the chip felt uncomfortably warm against my hand. "Do what you want with it. There's a creek nearby, toss it in there."

Bellamy seemed annoyed by my suggestion, grumbling something underneath his breath. I pressed the chip against the door opening of the drop ship, slamming it closed and smiling faintly when it snapped in half from the force applied. From my side view, Raven still slouched over in her seat. Something inside of me cringed with guilt as I stared at her.

"_You lying bitch!" _

_The hit against my jaw sent me flinging back against the chair I had staggered up from. It wasn't like those slaps most girl's tried to pull off, it was a full-blown knuckles against cheek and I yelped at the red sparks that flashed in my vision. The worse part of it all, as the council sentenced me and Tran's family stood before me like wrathful fallen angels obsessed with revenge – I had no one to defend me. _

"_You killed him!" Raven thrashed in her mother's grip, but his glare cutting through my pathetically strong exterior struck me like a punch to my stomach. _

_The fact that I killed him would have me floated – why did they have to scream and argue so much when my fated outcome would just be the same as his? Were they expecting medieval torture tactics? Pacification to draw out embarrassing personal information about myself? This whole thing was ridiculous and I really just wanted to flee from Tran's whole family and their conflicted, malicious auras._

"_Technically, he's killing me as well," I shrugged, trying to remain calm._

_No one defended me – so I guess I had to do it myself._

Rain splattered on my nose, the daydream ending and snapping me back into reality. I longed for a jacket as I dropped the transmitter to the ground, looking away from Raven. "Clarke and Finn will probably be here soon," Bellamy said, strolling past me and into the foliage of the forest.

I trailed after him, my thoughts scattered as I tried to put them back together in one piece. My ribs had been burning from the earlier adrenaline rush of finding the drop ship, and now the pain was blossoming through my chest. I was more than happy that Clarke had given Bellamy the idea of banning Murphy from ever returning to camp. I hated the boy, and if I ever saw him again, some words and physical actions were meant to be spoken and performed.

My earlier musings somehow circled back to the current issue that was flashing through her mind like caution red lights: Raven. Even thinking her name caused me to let out a shaky breath and rake a hand through my wild, knotty hair. Shutting my ponderings down, I focused on anything but my thoughts as we continued to trek back towards camp.

It was not long, though, when a very familiar, "Hey!" and a rushing of footsteps. Clarke rushed into the scene, gripping the strap of her bag in a tight clasp. When she saw me, though, she faltered in her step and almost ended up tripping over her own feet. "M-Marcy – what are you –"I visibly grimaced when her eyes darkened like storm clouds. "_You_." It was as if everything dawned on her all in one moment, and she stumbled like she had been slapped across the face. "T-The – Monty, the wristbands –"

My eyes instinctively darted to the ground and I shrugged. "Sorry." It was answered in a pathetic, low tone of voice, and by her expression, I could not help but feel culpability of my transactions. But not wrongdoings – they were not wrong, still, in my eyes.

Clarke's bottom lip trembled in rage, and she sought a source to take it out on – Bellamy. She grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around, but all he gifted her with was a mocking raise of one eyebrow. "Where is it?" She growled.

"'Ey, princess – just taking a walk in the woods." Bellamy's smirk was wide.

"They're getting ready to kill three hundred people up there. To save oxygen, and I can guarantee that it won't be council members. It'll be working people – you're people!" She jabbed him in the chest hard with her index finger.

Life suddenly seemed to slow down when Finn whipped past me, shoving his hands into Bellamy's chest to repeat the question of where the location of the radio was being hold. I could sense the presence behind me, and I knew that if I turned around – I would see that haunting, infuriated expression that used to lurk in my nightmares. But I did, anyways, shifting my feet and peering over my shoulder.

Raven was beautiful, she favored Tran a lot as well as her mother. Her brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, with olive-toned skin and almond-shaped brown eyes. Those eyes widened into saucers when she saw me, recognition flashing in her head. I expected her to lunge at me, to claw at my eyes (try to, at least) or even punch me as many times as her anger demanded her to do so – but, instead, tears glazed her irises.

It took years for her anger to be replaced with sorrow. The pain of her father missing.

I released a blatant sigh of condemnation, rolling back on my heels. Fuck, Earth was being really sucky right now. "Raven," I muttered gradually, still wary of her reaction.

She eyed me, but did not respond until the other three had went silent with confusion of us knowing each other. "You trash the radio?" She asked.

"I did more than trash it."

"Why?" Finn demanded, livid. He had released Bellamy's jacket, the muscles of his arms and back taut with tension.

"Is that so hard to believe, spacewalker?" Bellamy's facial expression was still flat, but his lip twitched upward. I shuddered internally, his lazy and nonchalant attitude was not an act – he was as merciless and cold as he had been before Charlotte, before all of the shit that had happened since. "If the Ark came down, Counselor Kane wouldn't think twice at shooting her between the eyes."

And suddenly, I grew numb inside. It was apparent of his intentions with speaking 'defensively' about me – and I visibly sneered at Bellamy. He was pushing them, their thoughts, towards me. So what – if I was the one who cut the line of communication, so what if I had been the one to rip out the transmitter – _so what_, all of this was his idea. His plans and intentions.

_He fucking used me._

"Bellamy, you shut your fuc –"I felt like I was about to explode from the fury boiling through my blood. I cut myself off mid-sentence, just hoping that my glare was enough to get the point across that I was not taking _any more of this shit. _And perhaps I expected him to wince in the slightest, or even frown – he didn't. His face was neutral.

"Bellamy Blake," Raven sounded breathless. She looked him up and down, eyes narrowing into slits. "They're looking everywhere for you."

"Shut up," he growled.

Clarke peered between all three of us, confused and interested and enraged. "Looking for him why?" She asked Raven, lips thinned into a line.

"He shot Chancellor Jaha."

Before anyone could say or speak, I burst into hysterical, bitter laughter. My grin wasn't warm or sarcastic like it was generally when I smiled or beamed – it was as frigid as ice. "You shot _Jaha_ – and you think Kane wouldn't think twice about shooting _me_ between the eyes?" I spat on the ground, at his shoes.

"That's why you took off the wristbands – you needed everyone to think we're _dead_," Clarke explained.

"And all that, 'Whatever the hell we want,' – you just care about saving yourself." Finn scowled, his shoulder-length hair wild around his face. His eyes cut to me before I could blink, and his expression grew even more angered. "And what about you, _sweetheart_? Playing nice and friendly and then sneaking off to do the dirty work?"

"Fuck off," I hissed. "You wanna know where the radio is? Ask Bellamy." My eyes scanned over the four people present, before I pivoted on my heel and stalked off towards camp. I didn't have to tell them my reasons, to explain myself, or relent excuses.

I didn't. And I wouldn't. I was not guilty.

Clarke seemed to think otherwise – it was really as if everything rushed to meet her in one single moment.

"You _did_ this?!" My initial shock of perplexity was when Clarke had roared in my face as she spun me around, but what really set in the deep hostility was when she grabbed me by the front of my tank top, bunching it between her clenched fingers, and used all of her strength to shove me. If I hadn't have kept a solid step behind me, I would have easily tripped backwards into the tree behind me. Tears glazed her azure eyes, but they were overlooked since her glare sent daggers into my blank expression. "My _mom_," she choked on her words.

"You made her think you were dead anyways," my words were surprisingly cold toward the younger female, bitterness dripping from each word. "I did you a favor – we did everyone a favor."

"No, you did _yourself_ a favor!" Clarke screamed, enraged.

I was far too numb to feel any blame for my actions. "I do not have to justify my actions to you, Clarke Griffin." My gaze burned into Bellamy's. "Or anybody." I shoved her arm away and walked into the opposite direction, my head bowed.

They didn't see the tears.

* * *

I sat cross-legged on the top of the drop ship at camp, the pitch black sky above me my current source of peace. I watched Raven, Finn, and Clarke patch together a rockets to launch up at the sky, to signal to the Ark that we were here – that we were alive.

Clarke and them – they didn't understand. They – they just didn't _get_ it.

_The baton crashed into my back, instantly sending me slamming against the corner of the table. Pain exploded through my mid-section and I cried out in confusion and infliction, Ace's meager belongings that were in a box falling and tipping over into the metal floor. The baton smacked into the back of my left knee this time, and I crumpled like a house of cards folding in on one another._

_I was perplexed– until someone stepped over me, and a handsome middle-aged face appeared in my blurry peripheral vision. It was Tran. I attempted to scuttle away with my useless legs, but his hand fisted my hair, and I was immobile. "T-Tran – what are you doing?" I struggled to breathe properly, my back burning with agony._

"_Finishing what the council should have ended a long time ago," he scoffed in my face, his gasps fanning my nose and causing my eyes to water. "Do you realize the pain you cause others? Huh?" His fingers tightened painfully, and I yelped as he dragged me forward, closer, dark eyes inflamed with rage. "Your parents – they were my best friends – _sacrificed_ themselves to save _you_. Jace was a son to me – and he died because of you!" He yanked hard and tears spilled down my cheeks._

"_Those w-weren't my faul –"All of the oxygen depleted from my lungs as he shoved me back down, crouching above me. "Tran! Tran, t-this is crazy! I – you weren't there, you know I would never–"_

"_You are a curse." _

_As soon as he finished that sentence, I opened my mouth in shock and horror. Not only did my parents float themselves to keep me alive after breaking the law, but Jace had as well – sacrificing himself in assistance to the Ark and me even after I had begged – no, pleaded – with him to return. Tran's clenched his jaw like he was pained, and before I get say anything to reprimand his decision – hands locked around my throat._

_Getting strangled was not what people expected. Albeit it was the majority of getting your airways blocked from passage, but it was agonizingly painful. I kicked my legs on instinct, my hands feverishly trying to rip away from his hold. Tran's thumbs dug into the sides of my neck, and I could feel the blood rushing to my head from my lungs ceasing to gather precious air. _

_Tears coursed down my cheeks, and I swore I saw Tran's own wet cheeks – everything flashed a vibrant red and then black –_

_Hacking coughs broke through my hoarse throat, and I turned over on my side to release the contents of my stomach onto the floor. Head pounding, eyes soaked with my own unshed tears, my back throbbing – I could only focus on the fact that Tran was almost rocking himself back and forth, mutterings barely whispering back his partly opened lips._

"_You did this, you did this," he clenched and unclenched his hands. "You – yes, you!" A trembling finger pointed at me. "All I had was them – my daughter didn't want me – my ex-wife didn't want me – they did. They did!" _

"_Raven loves you," I told him, rubbing my neck. "Tran, she loves you – y-you just never see her. Work keeps you too – uh, too occupied."_

"_No, she doesn't!" He roared, that animosity returning like a flicker of a candle. "They both don't – and that – t-that's why . . ." He trailed off, unfocused._

_I breathed in and out, wheezing. Tran was obviously insane, mentally, and I was the one person he could vent on for the wrong transgressions in his life. I scooted backwards, just a small movement, moving closer to the box of items that I had dropped to the floor due to Tran smacking me with the baton. _

_Glancing back just barely, I caught glimpse of the screwdriver that Jace very frequently would be seen with. He always kept it on him, he had always called it his 'sonic screwdriver' because of its multi-talents – and albeit I had no idea what that was, he had told me it was a reference to a TV show that dad used to let him watch as a kid. _

"_No, no they do love me – yeah, you're right – wait! What are you doing?!" He scrambled up to his feet with the grace of a professional athlete, his eyes firmly fixated on my hand near the screwdriver. _

_Without thinking of the consequences or my future, I dived for the tool. My fingers curled around its handle and I almost sagged with relied of the feeling that I would be safe with this 'weapon' in my hand – until Tran grabbed the waistband of my loose cargo pants, ripping me backwards and causing my chin to smack against the ground._

_Knowing that I would be more bad then good if I was on my stomach, I whirled around on my back and swung the screwdriver. I didn't want to hurt him, really, but I knew that he would end up killing me despite him drowning himself in his own madness. That made a person ten times more dangerous when they were not in the right state of mind._

_Tran smacked my wrist with his palm, sending the screwdriver sailing away from my grasp. The first punch made me freeze in surprise, and the second sent waves of pain coursing through my jaw, forcing me to raise my arms and protect myself. Breathing heavily, I shoved him in the chest with all my strength, effectively knocking him over enough for my slip past his weight that had been pinning me to the floor. _

_I picked the screwdriver back up, staggering into a poised position. I aimed the tool at him, scarlet blood dribbling down my chin and nose as I sneered. "Tran, stop this. I – I will, I _will_ kill you."_

_He snarled, primal and wild, his hair was in a fray around in his head, inky eyes shimmering with instability and malice. "So what?" He threw his head and released a chilling laugh. "You have murdered everyone else, why not me as well?" His steps were careful and steady, despite the dementia lingering in his expressions. _

"_Tran! Stop! I didn't do any of that! What – why are you doing this? We were _friends_!" The weapon shook in my slack grip, and tears sprung to my eyes. He was still slowly trudging toward me, his hand clenching and unclenching like before. "Please, Tran, I can't kill you."_

"_Yes you can," he whispered, and I almost missed it. He lunged forward with a violent roar, and I closed my eyes, swinging my arm in a wide arc –_

_. . . A warm substance coated my hand, sliding down my wrist and dripping off my forearm to splatter against the metal floor. Slitting my eyes open, my mouth dropped open in dismay at the tool plunged handle-deep into the man's throat. "Oh my God," I choked on my own words, letting the weapon go and slipping backwards and falling against the table behind me. _

_Tran reached up and clawed at the screwdriver, descending to his knees as a stream of blood gushed from the injury in his throat. _

_I didn't even have a chance to cry out my rapid emotions – because the door to the engineering tech lab slid open – and Kane, the Chancellor, and a dozen other guardsmen stood beyond the doorway. _

Yeah, maybe it had been self-defense – it didn't make me brave or any less guilty.

Once a coward, always a coward.

And that's what I was – a coward still blaming my idiocy on my past.

Gazing over the glowing aura of one of the torches, I observed as Bellamy kept his arms crossed, that twisted scowl on his lips.

But at least I wasn't the only one.


End file.
